


Apocatastasis

by Aeralyn



Category: Critical Hit (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Non-Canon Relationship, Non-Graphic Smut, season 4 and 5 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-09-30 14:12:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10164689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeralyn/pseuds/Aeralyn
Summary: A non-cannon exploration of Orem's reaction to finding himself trapped in the feywild and apparently abandoned by his friends, and his reconciliation with Ket. Ket finds his way to the Spring Wood in an attempt to release his younger brother from the spirit's curse, from which he did not recover after the spirit afflicting the Twin's district in Coldport was vanquished.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orem finds himself in the feywild, friends gone. He doesn't take it the best way, but he's suffered a lot of loss recently and he's a little numb.

Orem came to himself with a sickening mental lurch. The sensation of regaining consciousness did not become less unpleasant with time or repetition. How could his friends possibly do this every morning? This was simply not an appropriate way to start one’s day. With a snap, recent events caught up with his meandering thoughts. “Trelle! Randus? Torq?” Sitting up, Orem looked around. He was laying on top of a bedroll beneath a fabric canopy. “Ket, did you talk sense into them? It’s my responsibility to go!” Standing up, Orem looked around the spacious eladrin tent, spotting no sign of his companions or their gear. Only his own equipment rested within the confines of the tent, cold iron sword propped up against the handy haversack beside his cloak, neatly folded and resting atop his boots. “Guys? Where are you?”

As he contemplated the pile of his adventuring equipment, the tent flap opened behind him with a rustling sound. “Trelle, you’d better explain to me what you thought you were doing. We’ve been over this, we don’t attack one another. This party can’t handle more internal conflict.” Orem did not turn to face his visitor, feeling unprepared to look at any of his companions without first composing himself for another verbal skirmish.

“Orem, Trelle is gone. She went back to the prime material plane.” Kammis’s soft voice broke the silence after a few moments, trying to convey a soothing certainty she didn’t quite feel herself.

“And the others?” Orem replied tensely, his back visibly stiffening.

“They’ve all left. Each of them is a powerful adventurer in their own rights, and they have other responsibilities to attend to. As do you.” Kammis slowly approached her brother as she broke the news to him. This was going to be difficult, she knew. But they had done what was best for her brother, the feywild, and the eladrin people. She was confident Orem would see that in time.

Kammis approached her brother tentatively, until she stood just behind and to his left. Hesitating another moment, she laid a cautious hand on his shoulder. This was not going well. “Who… who went with The… our big blue friend?” Although it seemed impossible, Orem became even stiffer at his sister’s gentle touch, barely choking out his inquiry.

“Torq went. He and Randus… fought over it. In the end, Ket made the decision. Your friends are truly good-hearted people.” Kammis answered after another brief pause.

“NO! It was my responsibility! Our mother’s life, my people, my… the feywild. Torq didn’t want to bring the… our friend into the matter. It isn’t right that he went. I have to find him, bring him back. I, I, HOG-” Kammis clapped a hand over her brother’s mouth before he could finish calling out the name of The Hogba as he whirled to rush past her towards the tent’s entrance. 

“Orem, I know you’re hurt, but you have to accept his decision. He went of his own accord. Orem, we need you here. I need you here. You’re the greatest hero the eladrin have ever had.”

“You put them up to this didn’t you? Trelle and… Ket.” That last came out sharper than Orem intended. There was something coalescing inside of him, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. “I need some time alone. I need to think.” He brushed past his sister, roughly tugging his boots on, snatching up his sword and cloak with hands that trembled ever so slightly. He clenched his fingers hard to stop their shaking, feeling the familiar dull burning of the cold iron sword press against his palm.

“Just don’t do anything stupid, okay? You saved the world a couple hours ago, it would be ridiculous if you went out there and got yourself killed now out of spite,” Kammis retorted. She winced at the harshness of her own response, but didn’t say anything more. Her brother nodded tersely and left the tent at a brisk walk without meeting her gaze.

Outside of the tent, Orem didn’t even pause to get his bearings. He strode straight from the edge of the camp into the woods of the Spring grove, eyes burning. Years ago, as a recent graduate of the Cerulean Academy of Magic, Orem had ventured through these woods and out into another plane of existence. In a tower far away, he once thought he had lost his entire party due in part to his own failings. He remembered the fear, the emptiness of those desperate moments, and the agony of his retreat, later washed away by the relief of finding his companions alive. Now another one of them was gone, almost certainly forever. A terrible feeling was building in Orem’s chest, the cold and brittle pangs of loss. Despair. Guilt. He took a deep breath and walked further into the woods.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orem makes some decisions.

Not far into the spring wood Orem entered a quiet glen ringed by tall slender white birch trees. Their pale green leaves rustled gently in the faint breeze as he slumped to a seat in the mossy center of the clearing. Although tears seemed to press against the backs of his bright blue eyes, Orem found that he could not weep for his losses or his isolation. A cold heavy weight constricted his heart as he stared blankly at his clenched fists, white knuckled from grasping the hilt of his sword too tightly. Taking a quavering breath, the eladrin tried to relax. He breathed deeply the pleasantly cool air and noted the earthy scent of moss and mushrooms striking a counterpoint to the heady perfume of feywild flowers blooming in the distance. Recalling his mother’s admonishments from what seemed like an eternity ago, Orem attuned himself to the quiet clearing. From now on every time he took a fey step he would return here to the birch-lined circle in which he paused to consider the sacrifice of his dear friend Torq and the departure of his remaining companions. It seemed only appropriate.

That task completed, Orem turned his mind to reflecting upon all that had happened only a few hours earlier. With Spud dead and the power of the feywild released, it was unclear what would become of the disastrous changes the gnome had wrought in his time as Lord. It would take millennia for the long lived people of the plane to recover their populations. The fates of the previous seasonal sovereigns remained to be determined, bearing heavily on the stability and safety of each of the seasonal woods. 

“This would be so much easier with your help,” Orem groaned to empty glen. “How can I lead these people when I couldn’t get my own friends to listen to me? I’m not a diplomat. I don’t know how to salvage the old city, or how to ensure the structural integrity of the Amethyst Keep for that matter. I’m only good for burning things and arriving too late to save the lives of my teachers.” Tongues of flame blossomed in the air around Orem like deadly ephemeral flowers as he seethed internally with doubt and anguish. “I can’t even find my way back to you.” A tiny fragment of hope flickered up in the back of Orem’s mind at the thought. Maybe with Spud gone, he could use his feelings as a guide and find his own way like Trelle had done before.

Against his childhood teachings and his own better judgment, Orem reached out into the feywild with all the longing he could muster in his emotionally benumbed state. The endless challenges he would face without the companions he had grown to trust so completely seemed insurmountable to him. Over the years and mortal struggles, they had become more than friends. Torq, Ket, Randus, and Trelle had become the family of his choosing and making. Having lost his entire civilization already, it was monstrously unfair to lose the support network that had gotten him through that revelation as well. 

The long minutes of no response, of feeling the solidity of the boundaries that held the feywild and the natural world apart felt like a cruel eternity to Orem. Each passing moment cemented a cold and singular decision more firmly into the center of his being- learning to value and depend upon his fallible, sensitive, uncertain, over-emotional non-eladrin companions above his own kind and his personal responsibilities had done this to him. In his fondness, he had allowed them to become a crutch. Self-sufficiency had seemed unnecessary with them bolstering his abilities. In response to their compassion his desires had become more important than his duty. 

“Trelle knew what had to be done. She didn’t hesitate, even though accepting her responsibilities tore her away from my sister.” The slender eladrin knelt still as a statue in the moss, stony faced even as the tears began at last to flow from the corners of his wide open eyes. “If I hadn’t tried to refuse my own responsibilities, it wouldn’t have ended like this. I didn’t get to thank them. I didn’t even get to say goodbye and it’s my fault.” Silently, he promised himself he would never repeat the mistake.

After passing a few more minutes in quiet contemplation, Orem rose gracefully to his feet. He squared his shoulders against the aching emptiness that felt like nothing so much as a gaping hole in his chest and stood tall on the foundation of his new resolve. He would be the leader, the diplomat, the architect, and the arcane protector his people needed. The feywild would be made safe again not through force, but rather through a commitment to respecting the natural order of things.

Orem made his way back to the encampment and then past it at a steady walk. He continued on until he stood before the looming walls of the amethyst keep. The structure looked even more ominous now, punctured as it was by the crystal growth released by Brall’s device and pitted by the battle between the greater fey and the remembrance guard. Inside the walls, the ground was strewn with debris from shattered statues but eerily empty of other signs of conflict. There was no blood or bodies to attend to, no dead to mourn other than Spud himself and the late master Althern. Torq’s journey with the Hogba was undoubtedly a heavy price to pay, but all told the entire conflict had been resolved with strikingly fewer casualties than any of them could have possibly predicted. One might even be unjustified looking upon any of it with regret. At least, that was what Orem struggled to convince himself of as he picked his way up the battlements with no little difficulty. The jagged outcroppings of crystal choking the interior of the keep made navigating the area difficult, even all the way out at the outer wall. Eventually reaching an unencumbered high point on the wall, Orem looked out longingly into the feywild.

The endless forest stretched out before him, beautiful and deceptively peaceful. The dangers it contained were countless, but now for a little while at least, there could be hope. In a flash of blue light a familiar male eladrin appeared. “Is that you, Orem?”

“Yes?” Orem replied, confused.

“It’s me, Hendren! You’ll never believe what I was able to do!” As Hendren strode forward, blue lights like falling stars began streaking from the sky. Wherever the streaks of light touched ground, eladrin appeared. Men, women, and children appeared before Orem’s eyes in a resplendent shower of astral light. As more and more eladrin appeared and continued walking toward the keep, they raised their voices together in a very, very old song.

_“Though my sisters lie exiled and lost_  
_Though the wilds stretch out before me_  
_My eyes can see the vernal path_  
_By wand or by sword, by wine or song_  
_Through the rolling shifting routes of fate_  
_Each step I take reminds my heart_  
_The reason why we dance and fight._  
_It holds my head when sorrow would claim me,_  
_It shields my heart when death would take me_  
_The reason for my every breath,_  
_My family and my name._  
_My family and my name.”_

This song kindled a spark of recognition in the back of Orem’s mind. His mother had sung it to him when he was very small. Standing tall before Hendren and the astral eladrin that Orem had asked him to bring to the feywild, Orem nodded his head. “The reason for my every breath, my family and my name.” His words had a finality to them that resonated with his moments of reflection in the quiet grove. He would accept this task and see it through, regardless of the sorrow and death that shadowed his past. With a tentative smile, he turned to the last standing member of the remembrance guard, a single whole statue of his old master Althern. “I will finish this quest you laid before me. I will see the academy rebuilt and the people you died for made safe again.” Orem turned back around and thought very hard on an appropriate welcoming speech for the new arrivals.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sister's concerns are made clear.

Even with the help of a few thousand eladrin from the astral sea, it took several months to completely reclaim the Amethyst keep from the overgrowth of crystal choking its interior. In that time, the outer walls were also repaired and most of the rubble was successfully cleared from the grounds. As soon as the keep was secured and quarters for the current inhabitants were completed, Orem had made the search for survivors his primary objective. The first result of the searches he organized and led himself was the discovery of the fey wilden. The plant-like people had been born from the feywild’s own need to restore itself and immediately became a major boon to the eladrin and gnomes.

As gnomes, eladrin, and wilden trickled into the cerulean grove, Orem was talked out of personally leading the search and rescue efforts to direct his attention to leadership of the growing and thriving city. His efforts, if somewhat dispassionate, inspired confidence both in those who had answered his call to the Astral sea and to those who had opted to resettle in the Amethyst keep from other areas of the feywild. Between directing building projects, locating teachers and arranging academic schedules for the children of the keep, scheduling festivals to boost morale, and training a new generation of wizards in the art of sword magery, time passed quickly.

Kammis found her brother in the barely touched ruins of the library after over an hour of fruitless searching. “Felicia said I might find you here. Orem, do you have any idea what time it is?” She asked him, exasperation coloring her voice.

“Ah, sister. I know that it is finally my free time and that this library is in desperate need of restoration. Think of all the knowledge that will be lost if these books are left to crumble like this any longer.” Orem spared Kammis a solemn glance before returning to his work. He was engrossed in the task of collecting fallen books from the floor, smoothing and repairing their pages with a quick spell, and stacking them neatly along the southern wall of the room, which was the least damaged.

Kammis noticed with disgust the height and number of the stacks, wondered how many hours her brother had spent secreted away in this dusty room alone. “You should be resting. No wonder you look tired. I never thought I’d say this to you, but you’re just like father. You’ll work yourself to death before you see another hundred years at this rate.”

Orem straightened with a sniff of mock disdain after placing yet another repaired book on yet another growing stack. “And I never thought I’d say this to you, but you sound just like mother. You know I always loved the library at the academy. I’m simply seeing that it is preserved for my students,” he replied, placing a single hand on his hip as he turned to face his sister. “Honestly, you’d think the war was fought in here with the state of these books.” Orem gestured around the room with his other hand in a dramatic flourish. The humor in his voice was damped by the detached tone in which he spoke.

“You knew I wanted to speak with you before I have to leave for Whitestone tomorrow morning. You weren’t by any chance intentionally trying to avoid me, were you?” Kammis walked up to Orem and rested her forehead against his shoulder as he pointedly avoided her gaze. “I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be. Everything is going well here. I might even be able to turn The Spear over to Felicia soon. She’s progressed through her training faster than I ever hoped possible.” Orem dangled this approaching delegation of responsibility enticingly before his sister, hoping to avoid her questions. “Certainly faster than I did.” He added as an afterthought. Orem was pleased at the absence of bitterness in his voice. He thought it would be enough to deflect Kammis.

It was not. “Having a teacher certainly helps, you had to develop the path of the spiral tower on your own. And don’t think you can buy me off with the idea that you MIGHT delegate something. Until it happens AND you prove to me that you’re actually going to let her take over and not control everything secretly behind her back, I will remain unconvinced.” Kammis grabbed her brother’s chin and pulled his face down so she could stare into his eyes. “Yeah, don’t think I haven’t noticed. You can trust other people to help you. You’ve never taken any time to rest, to come to terms with… things. You need a break. Or a girlfriend. Preferably both.”

Orem flushed at his sister’s accusation. The feeling of his blood racing to his cheeks flustered him further. “What happened to ‘you’re the greatest eladrin hero and our people need you to lead’? That’s all I’ve been doing. As for trusting people, I have Arvall and once the people have confidence in her abilities, Felicia. I certainly don’t have time for a girlfriend and as for a break, I was taking one down here.” Orem winced internally. That had not come out the way he’d intended it to. If he only wasn’t so tired... It was harder to keep control of his feelings like this.

“Arvall… Your valet?”

“I prefer to think of him as an administrative assistant.”

“Administrative… Orem, that’s beside the point. This isn’t about your heroism, your leadership, or your, your ‘administrative assistant’. It’s been a year and a half and I’ve been watching you isolate yourself this whole time. You used to be so spirited; I can’t help but think you’re losing yourself.” As she spoke, Kammis gently pulled Orem’s head down a little more so their foreheads were touching.

Orem became very still for a moment, before pulling away and laying a hand softly on Kammis’s shoulder. “Eladrin can only change so fast. I need our people to respect me and follow my lead. If that means acting like the traditional cold eladrin, but a little more encouraging and open-minded, well that still seems like progress to me.”

“Even if this is all a public face, why haven’t you opened up to me? If you’re still the brother I know under that Heroic Arcane Protector mask you’re wearing out there, you must be feeling something. Stop bottling it up. That’s all I ask.” Kammis placed her hand gently on top of Orem’s on her shoulder and cocked her head slightly to right as she looked up at him. “Now go upstairs and meditate. I’ll be speaking to Arvall tomorrow, and if he reports that you come out of it in less than four hours, I’ll lay a geas on you.”

“Oh please.” Orem pulled his hand back and flapped it languidly at his sister, nonetheless following her out of the battered library.

“Don’t test me. You know I’m not one for idle threats,” Kammis replied teasingly.

“Fine, fine. If you insist mother.” Orem’s voice dripped with disdain as he spoke, and he accompanied this protest with an overly dramatic shrug of defeat.

Kammis swatted the back of his head gently as they climbed the stairs, but the corners of her mouth curled up in a very small smile of relief.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orem graduates his very first sword mage student, then goes for a walk in the feywild. A familiar face appears.

After bidding Kammis a safe journey the following morning, Orem set about planning a final exam by combat for Felicia. Maybe he was thinking about Torq a little more than usual that day, as the result was a large flaming and exploding skeleton for his protégé to face. With her sword mage training Felicia would be much better prepared to handle the challenge than the four who had faced the void. Orem closed the book he had been referencing with a snap and yelled for Arvall to find his student. It was time to prepare her for this last official test of her skills.

The following afternoon, hundreds of eladrin, gnomes, and wilden gathered in the training yard to watch the promotion of an Astral eladrin from pupil to head of the Amethyst Keep’s guard. The small stands around the area were packed full and more standing onlookers crowed into the interstices, surrounding the scorched and trampled ground. Although normally level, Orem had prepared a more tactical test field by adding trenches and boulders the previous afternoon, such that the field now more closely resembled an extreme obstacle course. The crowds parted on one side to permit the passage of their arcane defender and his most talented apprentice. 

Orem entered the arena with his normal air of noble grace, bedecked in fine robes of his favorite blue. Felicia walked beside him, dressed in more subdued pale grey robes with the sleeves bound close to her forearms. Her face sparkled with excitement as she surveyed the obstacles, hiding places, and cheering spectators. Orem lifted a hand and a rapid hush fell over the crowd. “We have gathered today, residents, refugees, visitors, friends and family, to witness the trial by combat of Felicia Gladstone, formerly of the Astral Sea. Should she attain victory in this area, she will prove herself worthy of directing security of the Amethyst Keep as the new leader of the Order of the Spear and my direct second in command.” The crowd cheered thunderously as Orem finished speaking. After a few moments his lifted his hand once more for silence before bowing to Felicia, who returned the gesture. “On my mark. Ready?”

“I am, master Rivendorn”

“Begin!” Orem raised his huge jagged cold iron sword to the sky to spray a rain of fiery sparks over the field. As he leveled the blade at Felicia, a large fireball shot from the tip directly at the much smaller eladrin. Felicia rolled neatly to the side, dropping into one of the trenches. Her passage triggered an unseen trap behind her, releasing a gelatinous sphere that rolled after her down the trench. Felicia whirled, sliced the ooze in half as it bounced up at her face, and leapt through it to the cheers of the onlookers. 

In fairly quick succession the petite woman dodged and deflected several more physical and magic traps. A volley of obsidian tipped arrows similarly fell to her nimble sword arm, an oncoming wall of electricity from a lightning orb rippled fruitlessly over a silver shield of magic that spread from the crown of Felicia’s head to encase her entire body, and a swarm of aggressive fey wasps was blasted away by a sharp gust of wind that erupted from the junction of her sword and her free hand, which she brought to rest on the flat of the blade halfway up its length.

As the dust cleared from her blast of wind, a flaming skeleton erupted from the bottom of another trench on the far side of the clearing. As it threw its head back and rattled its bones, the spectators fell silent once more. Felicia launched a magic missile at the monster and ducked behind a boulder. As the skeleton approached, she crept stealthily around the arena using the cover each obstacle provided with obvious skill, remaining hidden from her opponent. When the skeleton came around to attack her former position, Felicia leapt down upon it from behind, cleaving its skull in twain with a mighty blow from her sword. She leapt back as its bony form erupted in a spout of flames and finished the monster off with a stab directly through its chest.

As the skeleton dissolved into ash, the audience members seated in the stands rose to their feet cheering. Orem moved to Felicia’s side in a few long steps and bowed to her once more, slightly deeper than before. “Congratulations Felicia, you have successfully cleared my trial. From this moment on, you are the commander of the Order of the Spear. May you continue to bring together and protect astral and fey eladrin alike, as well as all others who come to the Cerulean Grove seeking asylum.” Stern faced, Orem looked down into the stormy grey eyes of his most skilled student and nodded proudly as she quickly composed herself.

Bowing once more in return, Felicia gazed with an attempt at equal solemnity up at her instructor, an effort marred by the nearly visible electric current of excitement that was following the battlefield adrenaline. “Thank you master, it is an honor and a privilege. Although I feel I have much more to learn from you, I know I can wield my sword and my spells to keep our people safe. I will do my best to follow in your footsteps and begin training the next crop of promising young warriors.”

***

Even after the spectators dispersed and Felicia was whisked away by friends and family to celebrate, Orem remained in the training yard staring out into the wilds. Assembling and executing the trial in such a short amount of time had required intense thought and concentration. He decided a walk in the woods was in order to help clear his head before he was snared by an invitation to the inevitable celebration that he could not politely decline. He had taken not two steps towards the tree line when he was called back by a familiar voice.

“Master Orem, if you wish to leave the grounds unaccompanied, you must take the appropriate precautions.” A tidy gnome in an emerald green waistcoat chided from the far side of the arena. “I will see to restoring the practice grounds, as long as you take an elemental cluster with you.”

Orem managed not to sigh or frown as he turned and crossed the clearing to accept the small cluster of crystals and wires hanging from a thick silver chain from Arvall. “Of course, how absent minded of me. If Felicia should send someone looking for me, please inform them that I will return this evening.” At his assistant’s nod of acquiescence, Orem slid the silver chain over his head so the cluster came to rest on his chest and strode out into the woods.

Orem moved through the forest with the ease of familiarity, moving neither particularly fast nor slow, and letting the fey paths lead him where they would. The woods directly outlying the crystal keep had been largely cleared of hazards so he needn’t pay so much attention while he traversed them. It was peaceful wandering at random, letting a direction choose itself for him. Over the past year and half, Orem had re-established a close feeling of connection with his home. Navigating the spring wood was once again second nature to him. Although he’d never sought confirmation from his father, Orem suspected that the responsibilities and attentiveness required of an arcane protector helped foster a special closeness with the very fabric of reality in the feywild.

A crystal cairn sparkling in the afternoon light up ahead signaled the boundary of the ‘safe’ zone. As he drew up to it, Orem paused a moment to more carefully scan his surroundings. From the practice grounds at the west side of the keep it seemed he had circled around to the North, a direction his wanderings rarely led him. Most of these walks through the feywild led to nothing of consequence beyond quiet reflection outside the confines of his duties. From time to time however, Orem found himself stumbling into the paths of people in need of assistance at the most opportune moment. Orem wondered if today’s walk would be one of those ventures as he moved carefully beyond the cairn in the direction of the fractal plaza closest to the crystal keep.

The forest beyond the cairn was quiet, no different from the territory Orem had already passed through. The scent of spring flowers hung lightly upon the breeze as always. An approaching scuffling sound in the underbrush drew Orem’s attention. Rushing forward, he came upon a clearly distressed hedgehog wearing a bonnet. “Poke, what’s wrong? Is your family in danger?” Orem knelt down to examine his small friend more closely.

“Oh. Hello mr. Orem, my family is fine. That guy back there probably needs some help though,” Poke said after taking a moment to catch her breath.

“Who? What happened?” Orem kept the urgency from his voice and instead questioned Poke gently. He had learned the best way to draw information out of the hedgehogs through trial and error over time.

“I don’t know, he said he was a friend. The weirds are attacking him.” As Poke explained, Orem heard a shout from further north.

“Thank you Poke, now get somewhere safe!” Orem leapt forward over the hedgehog in the direction of the shout.

Several hundred feet on Orem crested the top of a small hill and finally saw the conflict down the other side of the incline. Several large blobby weirds were surrounding a single figure in the gully below, leaving tracks of barren ground behind them as they dissolved all plant life they came into contact with. The embattled man was hunched forward and moving heavily under the burden of another person, only slightly smaller, who appeared firmly attached to his back by a broad sling and some cordage. There was something very familiar about the way the man below moved, even heavily encumbered as he was. The shriek of an eagle and the sudden appearance of a chittering orange imp directly in front of Orem’s face quickly confirmed the familiarity.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orem swoops to the rescue of Ket and treats his wounds at the crystal keep.

“Ket!” Orem called out, reaching to the crystal cluster that hung around his neck. Orem dexterously slid a piece of the cluster into a new orientation with one hand as he drew his sword with the other. The crystal cluster began to glow a brilliant blue and emitted a high pitched chiming sound that quickly ascended out of the range of eladrin hearing. In a flash Orem teleported into the combat, appearing only inches away from his former companion. Before Ket could flinch away Orem hauled his free arm over one shoulder to help support the weight of his burden and began dragging the exhausted half-elf around one of the weirds and back up the hill. 

The nearest weird lunged at the trio as they passed, drawing a slash from the cold iron sword. When the blade struck home, it tore a rent in the weird that sizzled angrily for a moment before the construct’s slimy mass oozed back together and it lurched forward once more. A whirring sound above alerted Orem to the impending arrival of help. Urging Ket further up the slope, the sword mage turned to face the oncoming weirds. He would only need to buy them a little more time. A swirling vortex of color flowed from the tip of the sword and splashed down in the middle of the blobs, compelling them to stop their pursuit for a few more seconds. Sprinting up to the top of the hill, Orem arrived just in time to cajole Ket up onto the back of a giant crystal dragonfly the moment it landed. The construct was not meant to carry three people, but it managed to struggle up into the air and away from the oncoming threat seconds before the weirds crested the hill.

“Hello Ket,” said Orem. From his position behind Ket, he could see that the half-elf was swaying unsteadily. “Try not to fall off, those things are still following us.” As if in response Ket slumped particularly far to the right, requiring Orem to grasp his shoulder and heave him upright. It was a difficult maneuver due to the added weight of the teenager strapped to his back, further complicated by Ket’s immediate recoiling from the pressure on his right shoulder.

“S’been a while, you’ve good timing as usual” Ket replied as Orem steadied him. His words were slightly slurred, either by pain or exhaustion.

“Just lay forward and hold on, idiot.” Orem drew back the hand he’d used to steady his companion just long enough to confirm that the wetness he’d felt was blood. While trying to balance the weight of the two riding in front of him, Orem took in the resemblance between them. The head resting on Ket’s left shoulder had the same slightly elongated and pointed ears, the same dark brown hair and lighter brown skin. Filing away his many questions for later, he instead focused on keeping Ket and his charge centered on the dragonfly’s back.

As the elemental dragonfly construct flies, it was a relatively short trip back to the keep. Even with the dragonfly belabored by an unaccustomed burden it managed to outpace the pursuing weirds in a matter of minutes. Once they were clear Orem pulled a scroll of sending out of a hidden pocket in the sleeve of his robes, a nicety he kept for emergencies when an instantaneous message was necessary. After quickly reading through the scroll, Orem spoke. “Arvall, returning by dragonfly with two injured companions. Prepare medical necessities and private accommodations.”

“All residential and guest quarters are currently occupied; I’ll bring what’s needed to your personal suite.” Arvall’s prompt answer reminded Orem of the last group that had come in to re-settle from the Fen of Winters. Until further renovation efforts could be completed, the only spaces available were in short term dormitories or the very small, similarly public infirmary. 

After allowing Ket to catch his breath for several minutes, Orem attempted to rouse him as they neared the keep. “Come on Ket, we’re almost back. You have to pull yourself together. I thought you said you didn’t have kids?”

“S’my brother, n’that was last gasp stuff back there, haven’t slept in some days. I’m used up.” Ket’s reply came slowly as did his effort to return to an upright position. This attempt was foiled by the indelicate thump of the dragonfly making a rough landing on the balcony off of Orem’s private quarters. Orem leapt lightly down and turned to assist the reeling half-elf while avoiding the now-apparent gash on his right shoulder. The door to the sitting room had been propped open, and the trio just managed to stagger to the long couch before losing the battle against gravity. 

Ket fetched up with his upper body mostly on the sofa, largely face down with his brother on top of him. Orem crouched in a three point stance adjacent, having barely caught his balance at the last moment. He was strong for an eladrin, but not strong enough to carry the weight of two injured companions. After a moment of consideration Orem began to carefully unfasten the ties securing the boy. He brushed away Ket’s hands where they fumbled ineffectually at some of the knots, and shortly had rolled the unconscious boy off his brother’s back and laid him out gently on the sofa, nodding to himself as a cursory inspection turned up no visible wounds. That accomplished, Orem wrestled the weakly protesting Ket into one of the overstuffed chairs and began looking over his injuries more carefully.

The gash on his right shoulder was the worst of it, a long and wide but mercifully rather shallow wound that looked like the result of contacting a weird. Nothing else could melt enchanted armor and flesh away in that manner. Stony-faced, Orem began to cut away and remove Ket’s shirt and jacket to clean and dress the wound.

“Hey, knock it off,” said Ket, trying vainly to push Orem’s hands away. “I like this jacket.”

“Well it’s ruined anyway, you’ll just have to get a new one.” An orange imp alighted on the back of the chair and hissed something that sounded like an agreement as Orem continued working. When an attempt to pull the remainder of the jacket’s sleeve over the gaping injury proved too painful, Ket stopped struggling and simply watched morosely as his leather jacket came to pieces. Removing the jacket and shirt revealed a more mundane variety of bruises, lacerations, and punctures decorating the rest of Ket’s chest and arm. 

“If you want to do something useful, drink this.” Orem snatched a steaming mug from a nearby table and pressed it into his friend’s hand. 

“Thanks.” Ket gave the murky liquid a suspicious sniff as he accepted the cup. It didn’t smell as terrible as he expected, so he cautiously began drinking. The draught was surprisingly salty and tasted strongly of a spicy aromatic that seemed vaguely familiar to the half-elf. Immediately the pain from his wounds began receding as the less serious injuries closed up in response to an accelerated healing spell. Only the weird burn remained unaffected. 

“I’ll have to clean and dress the shoulder, weirds seem to leave contamination in wounds that continues slowly burning away flesh,” said Orem steadily. He had watched Ket with a blank face and unblinking eyes as the other man drank the potion. Now that the lesser injuries were knitting together, he turned to grasp a small basin of silvery liquid with a cloth hanging neatly folded over the lip. With brusque efficiency the eladrin cleansed the large burn, his hands steady and determined against Ket’s flinching.

Ket gritted his teeth against the pain, black spots swimming through his vision. The silvery liquid seemed to simultaneously burn and freeze as Orem dabbed away at the damaged tissue of his shoulder. “How’s Emil? Not injured I hope?” Ket gasped, trying to turn his mind away from the agony.

“Your brother?” Orem asked. At Ket’s jerky nod, Orem elaborated “He’s fine, but unconscious. How did you two get here?” Long pale fingers moved steadily, drawing away the cloth and packing the glistening injury with pale green ointment that smelled strongly of herbs.

“He’s afflicted by a spirit’s curse… everyone else recovered after I banished the creature. We thought taking him out of the natural world might help weaken the lingering effects.” As the ointment soothed the wound, the mixture of pain and adrenaline sustaining Ket began wearing off. He watched through progressively lowered eyelids as Orem applied gauze and bandages, leaning this way and that as directed.

“I see. You should get some sleep, we can discuss your brother’s condition further in the morning.” Task accomplished, Orem sat back on his heels, giving his handiwork a last calculating gaze.

“No, he needs… Needs fluids. Getting dehydrated.” Ket struggled to rise from the chair, emboldened by the lessening of his pain. A roaring rose in his ears as the black spots swimming through his field of view engulfed him.

From his half-crouched position, Orem had neither the strength nor the leverage to keep Ket from falling, at least not without disturbing the dressing he’d just completed. Instead, he pulled the taller man towards himself, controlling his fall to a sufficient degree that Ket’s head bounced roughly on Orem’s stomach rather than colliding with the nearby table.

“You never were good at listening,” the eladrin sighed. His brow furrowed slightly with frustration for a fraction of a second before he was able to control his irritation. “I suppose some things don’t change.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Domoz made [ this ](http://domoz.tumblr.com/post/158293658116/have-yall-read-this-fic-bc-im-enjoying-it-a-lot) beautiful art of the story, please excuse me while I go to a corner and squeal like a child on Christmas morning.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A story for the ages: Orem is awake while everyone else is asleep.

Ket’s eyelids fluttered as he clawed his way back to consciousness. He was lying on his left side, face pillowed on something soft and blue that smelled faintly of lilacs. Rolling onto his back, Ket found himself staring up into a pair of featureless blue eyes that loomed startlingly close overhead. He closed his own eyes again with a groan.

“If you can let me up, I’ll get you a pillow. Don’t even think about standing up again,” Orem said. His words were firm but calm, another surprise for Ket. He’d come to expect a certain degree of mockery or at least an air of superiority and general disdain from his companion in a situation like this. It seemed a lot had changed in the past year and a half. 

“Sure, sure.” He struggled to push himself upright. All the muscles in his body felt like they’d been turned to water, excepting his right arm which had gone entirely numb.

As Ket sat up, Orem extricated himself with all the decorum as he could muster (not much). He returned quickly with a square throw pillow that he placed behind Ket, considered pushing Ket so he would fall back onto the pillow, decided against it. 

“I’ll watch your brother, just go to sleep.” Orem settled cross-legged into one of the two large, plush chairs facing the sofa as he spoke. “You’ll have to make do with the floor or a chair, I don’t have a bed in my quarters.”

“Slept a lot harder in our traveling days, so I’m not complaining but…why?” Ket asked as he lowered himself back onto the pillow.

“I don’t sleep, so there’s no need,” Orem replied, face and voice equally expressionless.

Thinking back to their stay at Whitestone, Ket clearly recalled the beds in Orem and Kammis’s rooms. “Beds are useful for more than-”

“I said go to sleep, _Ket_.” There was just the barest hint of sharpness in Orem’s voice as he interrupted, but his face remained expressionless as he continued staring into the middle distance.

“Whatever.” Ket grumbled, too exhausted to care at the moment. He was asleep nearly as soon as his eyes closed.

Ket’s breathing quickly fell into the steady rhythm of sleep. Only when Orem registered this change did he look down at the half-elf. His mind swirled with conflicted feelings as he scanned the familiar features, the tense lines of pain and worry smoothed away at rest. Now that the sick excitement born of emergency had faded, Orem was left predominantly with concern and unease. Of all his companions, it had to be Ket who’d come seeking his aid. Ket, whose intentions and motivations were the least clear to him, whose private obligations were the most unknown. He hadn’t put a lot of thought into what he would say to his companions if he found them again. He’d made himself busy with the needs of his people, piling more and more duties upon himself until there simply weren’t empty spaces left to fill with the ghosts of his recent past. The people he’d most loved had stripped him of his agency and left him to face his duty alone. In response Orem had pushed his feelings for them down and down, to the very bottom of his heart. He took from them the lessons he needed and did his best to ignore the rest.

A tap at the door drew Orem from his reverie. He rose quietly and glided across the room, composing himself as he did so. This would be Arvall no doubt, come to fetch him for the party. His mind quickly turned to planning an event that would make up for his absence from said party which he certainly could not now attend. As expected, the smartly dressed gnome stood waiting in the hall.

“Master Orem. I informed Felicia you were detained by an emergency, is there anything more you would like me to pass on to her?” Arvall kept his voice low, bowing to Orem respectfully.

“Thank you. Please inform Felicia that I will hold a ceremony tomorrow morning to officially confer upon her the position of Commander. If she asks, you may inform her that I am dealing with… private familial concerns.”

“Very good. Shall I send for a cleric to attend your companions? Do you require any of tomorrow’s meetings to be rescheduled?”

“No, I believe I have everything under control for the moment, the two of them mostly need rest. Add the ceremony between the morning building progress meeting and the outpost planning meeting. I would like any extant books on spirits and shamanic cleansing brought to my study. Please post a runner by the suite so my companion, Ket H’zard, can make requests as necessary while I am out tomorrow.”

“Ah, indeed. I take it master H’zard will be staying in your quarters then. Do you require anything else?” Orem saw the flash of recognition in his assistant’s face at the name.

“A… bed, I suppose, when it can be managed,” Orem replied. He frowned slightly at the thought of rearranging his quarters to accommodate more furniture.

Arvall gave a crooked grin, revealing his sharp little teeth. “I’m sure the crafters will be happy to oblige, you make few requests of them. Very well, I will see what can be found in the library and among the scholars as soon as possible, and send what can be gathered on short notice along with your dinner. Good evening.” The gnome excused himself with a second bow and bustled off down the hall.

Orem closed the door gently and padded back into his suite. “Fluids, fluids. A tea perhaps. Broth, certainly.” Considering his treatment options, the eladrin drifted about his rooms tidying the mess left by their calamitous entrance. A journal and scrolls swept off the table earlier were returned to their proper resting places and the sheathed cold iron sword was hung on the empty peg of a wall rack next to another scabbard wrapped tightly in off-white cloth. Orem crossed into a study lined with shelves of scrolls, crystals, magical components (biological and inorganic both), quills, and pots of ink. Opening a drawer of his work bench, he sifted through neatly organized packets and selected three.

Back in the sitting room Orem dipped a finger into a pitcher of water and swirled the surface of it absently until steam rose from it. When the temperature of the water was acceptable he added leaves and flowers from the three pouches to make a pleasantly aromatic tisane. Patience was key to a properly steeped tisane, and Orem knew this well. He spent a patient quarter hour preparing the following day’s meeting agendas while alternately keeping an eye on his two guests and the imp. Zel’Gai’Us had settled on the chair originally occupied by Ket and sat still as a gargoyle watching over his master’s brother. When the tisane was ready, Orem decanted half into a water skin and the other half into a mug. The mug he drank himself, slowly sipping and enjoying the mellow and vaguely sweet flavor of the beverage.

Orem took in the features of the youth lying on his couch as he sipped from his mug. He appeared to be barely out of childhood, bearing a strong familial resemblance to Ket. The boy’s frame was thinner and shorter, with the slightly disproportionate build that indicated growth to come. His facial features were quite similar as well. Even with the lingering softness of adolescence his bone structure was finer than that of a human. His dusky cheeks were slightly flushed and his sleep had become fitful. Emil’s eyes were darting under closed lids, and his fingers had clenched into fists that twitched weakly from time to time.

Frowning, Orem rose and stepped over Ket to move to the child’s side with the water skin in one hand. Gai skittered down from his perch at nearly the same time, fluttering to Ket’s side. The imp began hissing and tapping at his master’s head in a clear bid to wake him.

“Stop that you! Let him sleep, he’s badly injured.” Orem attempted to swat the imp away before it could succeed in its efforts. Gai turned from Ket to Orem and raised its paws in agitation, chittering and hissing unintelligibly. “I’ve prepared a medicinal drink for Emil, so if Ket told you to wake him when the child stirred, I’ll handle it. You understand? I have it under control.” 

After several more tense moments of hissing, eladrin hands flapping in the imp’s face, and irate demonic noises, Gai leapt into the air and with a few beats of his wings landed by Emil’s shoulder. Orem similarly moved to the boy’s side and propped up his head and shoulders with a gentle hand. Orem had always had a soft spot for children.

“Emil, can you hear me? Can you wake enough to drink something? Ket is very worried about you, he fought hard to get you here safely and now I’m going to take care of you.” Orem spoke a steady stream of quiet soothing words as he attempted to rouse the boy enough to get fluids into him. Although Emil’s eyelids continued to flutter and he made a few incoherent noises, he did not seem to come fully aware. However, when Orem held the water skin to the boy’s lips and carefully dribbled the tisane into his mouth, he drank readily enough. Orem was able to get most of the contents of the container into him through such patient application and gentle urging. Gai initially looked on in agitation but calmed as he watched Emil being competently tended.

When the boy fell back into a deeper sleep and resumed unresponsiveness, Orem laid him back down and went to the hall to ask for broth, small cloths, and a basin of cool water. The requested supplies arrived on a tray accompanied by a covered platter of food and a few books. Until the small hours of the morning Orem occupied himself with reading, searching for any information that might help cure his friend’s brother. The cloths he soaked in cool water and draped over the boy’s forehead to sooth his fever.

When Emil stirred again Orem was able to give him the broth, of which he consumed roughly half. A distant bell chimed an hour much later than Orem had realized. He had very little time left to trance and prepare himself for the day’s activities. He settled quickly into a chair to meditate.

Ket woke when the morning sun shining through the clear doors of the balcony crept across his face. For the first time in over a week he felt truly rested, although the ache was returning to his arm. He sat up slowly and took in the room around him. A tray of breakfast sat on the low table in front of him with a note beside it. Gai was curled up in a ball by Emil’s shoulder on the couch. His brother seemed to be resting easily for the moment.

“Gai,” He said, poking his imp gently.

“Wha, what?” The orange monkey-like creature uncurled and snapped its eyes open immediately. 

“How is he?” Ket’s voice was tight with concern.

“Oh, he’s fine. The eldadrin got him to drink some herbal thing and some broth. He wouldn’t let me wake you up.” The imp scratched at his shoulders irritably as he spoke, clearly tired. “He left you a note.”

“Thanks. You can go back to sleep,” Ket replied as he lifted the piece of paper indicated by his imp.

_Ket,_

_I’ll be out until evening attending to pressing administrative concerns. There will be a runner stationed by the door to bring you whatever you require. Your dressing doesn’t need to be changed until this evening, but if you are in pain or want someone to see your brother you can send for Hendren. The books on the table contain all the available information on primal forces. If anything else turns up in the library it will be brought to you here. Lunch will be brought to you as well, and I should return in time for dinner._

_Please continue resting.  
Orem_

“Really? All day? He’s got to be kidding me.” Ket grumbled as he dug into the food and grabbed the top book from the stack of three.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orem's life is difficult, and Ket's life is frustrating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I go to a lot of meetings, and my thesis adviser is also our department head so I _hear about_ even more meetings. I hate meetings, and I wrote a lot more meeting specific content and dialogue in this chapter that I deleted because honestly, who wants to read about that? I forget that I don't necessarily have to maintain a constant linear trajectory through time with this kind of writing. Anyhow, if this chapter is boring to you, please let me know so I can focus more on jumping from story point to story point in the future.

Orem fought the urge to drum his fingers on the table. Instead he slid his hands into his lap where he could clench them into fists without drawing attention to his impatience. 

“Of course I want rooms constructed for the university. I would just like to remind you all that our focus should be on constructing additional living quarters first. We currently have barely enough space for our existing population, and concentrating our entire efforts on re-establishing the university at this point would mean denying education to those who don’t currently have the privilege of living here.”

An eladrin further down the table frowned in disagreement. “The feywild is more dangerous than ever with the fractal plazas and weirds persisting outside our walls. We must focus our resources on educating our children and training them to defend themselves!”

The wilden across the table nodded in agreement. “We need to fully restore the libraries and begin making records to replace tomes of knowledge that have been lost. Our scholars need these resources to study the disturbance that is allowing the weirds to persist so we can purify the feywild of their unnatural taint.”

Orem clenched his fists ever tighter in frustration. “Yes, it’s dangerous outside our walls. But the Cerulean Academy was a pillar of the feywild because it drew the best and brightest minds here to the spring wood. This is a legacy we need to uphold for ourselves and our children. Only together will we have the strength to defend and reclaim the seasonal woods.” Glancing around the table, Orem took in the begrudging nods of the building committee. “Those of you who follow the curriculum will know I take great pride in teaching the history and legacy of the Cerulean Grove to all of our students so they understand the spirit of our endeavors. It would be nice to have facilities, but at its heart learning requires only dedication of the teacher and open minds of the students, and we have those aplenty. We must continue moving forward on both fronts at once.”

It didn’t take much longer to sway the committee in his favor. It took a great deal longer to identify appropriate compromises in the reorganization of resources. It was, as Orem had indicated to his sister, difficult to keep eladrin from retreating into insular defensive behaviors. That wasn’t the future he had in mind for his people though, and he would fight against the tide of tradition for as long as it took to broker true change.

The meeting wrapped up just in time for Orem to straighten his robes and catch his breath after sprinting to the courtyard for Felicia’s promotional ceremony. He spared a moment to glance down at the scabbarded sword in his hands. Undoubtedly his absence from the celebration last night had sparked rumors that he was not confident in Felicia or that he regretted putting so much power into the hands of an astral eladrin, or any such number of very harmful falsehoods. This sword was important to him- made by Randus, and a major symbol of the mistakes he’d made on their journey to restore the feywild. It pained Orem to even consider turning the weapon over to another wielder, which contributed a great deal to his certainty that he had to relinquish it to Felicia as a symbol of good faith.

The few whispers he was able to catch before his entrance was noticed in the courtyard confirmed Orem’s fears of harmful rumors. It was getting easier to stifle the disgust that the cutthroat and competitive currents of eladrin society inspired in him as the predictability of related problems wore away at his optimism. Orem took his position before the statue of Althern and inclined his head to the gathered audience. Felicia rose to stand before him at his gesture.

“Yesterday we witnessed your prowess with blade and spells. Now that you have had a chance to reflect upon the duties laid before you, I would ask that you swear a solemn oath to me before the image of my own master.” Orem gestured up to the statue behind him. “As captain of the Order of the Spear, you must swear to protect all creatures of the feywild wherever and whenever you find them in need. You must also swear that you will use your power in fairness and good faith to bring together all who would live within our walls. Lastly, you must continue to pursue mastery of the martial and arcane arts, and teach your skills to those who would learn those arts. Do you accept these charges?” Orem gazed down at the much shorter eladrin solemnly as he delivered his prepared remarks. He was proud of the confidence he read in her face.

“I do solemnly swear.”   
After Felicia’s response, Orem turned and picked up his cold Iron sword from where it leaned against the statue behind him. He turned again and touched the tip of the scabbard to Felicia’s forehead before offering the weapon to her, hilt first. Her eyes widened with shock as she clumsily grasped the hilt and drew the sword from its sheath. “You are now the sword arm of the Eldritch Protector, so it is only befitting that you wield the blade that struck down Spud and made the Cerulean Grove safe for us once more. I leave it and command of the Spear in you capable hands.” Orem bowed to Felicia and then motioned for her to turn and do likewise.

While the onlookers murmured in surprise, Orem quickly slipped the empty scabbard through Felicia’s sash and then stepped back. _That should quiet any gossip,_ he thought to himself with satisfaction. That satisfaction buoyed his spirits as he swept officiously out of the courtyard and, once he was out of eye and earshot, took off running to his next meeting.

Unfortunately the small ceremony was the last thing to go smoothly that day. The satisfaction of that previous victory quickly drained away in the second meeting, to be replaced by fatigue and frustration once again. The third meeting ran long, leaving Orem to run off to his afternoon of teaching without a pause for lunch. _The reason for my every breath,_ Orem reminded himself as he straightened his robes and hair from yet another bout of sprinting before entering the classroom.

***

After Ket finished eating, he closed the book and looked around the room with a sigh. The remains of his shirt and jacket were nowhere to be found. The acid burn left by his brush with the weirds extended from the middle of his deltoid inward below the right clavicle and down his chest at least a hand’s span. As a result his upper chest and his right arm from just above the bicep were now bandaged. Although the wound and apparently quite a bit of his surrounding surface area had been cleaned by Orem the previous night, the rest of him was still coated in dried swamp detritus and other unpleasant substances. Emil was not much better off, although slightly less of him had been dunked in the bog they’d encountered upon first entering the feywild.

Poking his head out the door, Ket saw as promised a gnome sitting in a chair on the other side of the hall. She was industriously carving a smallish block of wood when Ket cleared his throat to get her attention.

Glancing up from her work, she said “Ket, I presume?” At his nod, she continued. “My name is Hildry. Is there something you require?”

“Ah, nice to meet you Hildry, I was wondering if there’s somewhere I can get my brother and I cleaned up? I’ll need a shirt too. Actually, we’ll both need spare cloths until our gear can be cleaned.” Ket stepped the rest of the way out into the hall as he spoke, not one to be made bashful by lack of a shirt.

“Of course. There’s a bathing pool down the hall, will you require assistance with your brother? I understand he is ill.”

“Depends on how deep the pool is I guess. I’ll get him there and then let you know, how about that?” Ket replied, pursing his lips for a moment in thought.

“Very well, I’ll wait here for you.”

Ket first tried to lift his brother into his arms directly, but his breath hitched in his throat at a sudden flare of pain when the attempt put pressure against his injury. The stabbing, burning sensation abated as soon as he backed away, and he frowned dubiously at the bandage as he caught his breath. Orem had never shown a particular aptitude for healing or even basic first aid when they’d traveled together, yet the wrappings on his chest and arm looked every bit as neat and efficient as Randus’s best work. With tentative fingers, Ket gently poked the bandages where he vaguely recalled seeing a seeping hole the night before. Sure enough, the light pressure elicited a fierce ache. 

“This is going to be more of a problem than I thought,” he muttered to himself. Kneeling beside the couch he was able to roll the teenager onto his back with very little trouble. With the boy in position he grabbed the carrying sling and with a few practiced wrappings and knots he had Emil supported in place. He walked wearily out into the hall, freshly aware of his travel-sore muscles as he resumed carrying his brother.

“I could have gotten someone to help you,” Hildry mused when she saw the half-elf clomp out into the hall. “Well, it’s no matter now I suppose. The bathing pool is very close by.”

It took time, but Ket was able to get the two of them cleaned up and into the robes Hildry had provided. Emil was slight enough to fit his relatively well, but Ket’s robe was comically short. Luckily, most eladrin favored billowing cloaks and voluminous robes so the garments at least fit around him without compressing his shoulder. The wound felt fine as long as nothing pressed against the dressing. Throughout the entire ordeal, Emil had barely stirred. 

It took Ket the rest of the morning to work his way through the first book. Halfway in he encountered a loose paper covered in Orem’s neat script tucked between the pages. The sheet contained some explanations of studies the text alluded to and a few theories on the cause of Emil’s condition before descending into a fragmentary jumble of characters that Ket could only assume was some sort of note-taking shorthand. The sections in shorthand were almost entirely unintelligible, but the half-elf took note of page-numbered references to at least one of the other books, as well as what appeared to be coordinates of indiscernible provenance.

Looking up from Orem’s page of notes, Ket called for his imp. “Hey Gai, think you can sniff out where Orem keeps his ink?” He asked, pointing at the note that had been left on the tray.

The imp grumbled as he scampered over snatched up the scrap of parchment. Turning his head this way and that he inspected and sniffed the paper then looked back up at his master. “Seems like it’s enchanted, so probably.”

“Great, bring some paper too. My writing kit was destroyed when we fell into that sink hole.” 

After a few minutes of hissing and scrabbling, Gai flew back with a sheaf of paper in one paw and a bottle of ink in the other. He placed these on the table before Ket and spat a quill pen down beside them. “Thanks.”

“Mehhh… Everything here smells bad, tastes worse,” the imp replied as it crawled into the cavern of Ket’s backpack where it rested on the other chair overlooking the sofa. “Even starting to smell bad in here.”

“Sorry about that,” Ket replied absent mindedly, already setting to work on his own note-taking.

A different gnome interrupted Ket’s reading in the early afternoon to bring him lunch and a stoppered leather flask. “Master Rivendorn requested this be made up for your brother, it’s liquid but highly concentrated nutrition. We developed it some time ago based on a description of Cog rations from his pods of casting.”

“Great, thanks. Any word on when he might be coming back?” Ket asked with a grimace, remembering the ‘food’ sludge of the Cogs. Hopefully this tasted better, but then again it couldn’t possibly be any worse.

“Not for several more hours. He’s teaching fundamentals of war-wizardry today before the sword mage concentration class, and then he has to debrief the new captain of the guard so she can assume duties tomorrow.” The gnome frowned and tucked his thumbs into the pockets of his slacks once he had set the tray down. “I will try to see that he comes in time for dinner this evening, since he missed lunch again today.”

“So, does he let anyone else do anything around here?” Ket asked.

This drew a small chuckle from the gnome. “No, he really doesn’t.” He turned to leave, then turned back to Ket with a wide fangly grin. “Oh. Did you ask him about the bed?”

“What bed?” Ket responded.

“Exactly. So where do you want it? The carpenters were very excited that he requested it.” The gnome’s grin, impossibly enough, got even slightly wider.

“So how mad is he going to be when he sees it?” A slow smile spread across Ket’s face, momentarily wiping the concern from his features.

“Oh, extremely mad, I should think. It’s really something to behold and, knowing him, he’ll feel the need to be gracious and appreciative about it.”

“Then let’s move the desk and put it there against the wall so I can watch my brother from the couch. I didn’t catch your name, by the way.”

“I think that will do nicely,” the gnome said, smoothing away his wicked grin with one long-fingered hand. “It’s Arvall, pleasure to meet you master H’zard. I’m more or less what you’d call a seneschal, I think. I’ll send someone along to handle the rearrangements.” With that the gnome sketched a clearly facetious bow with a flourish of one hand and bustled out of the room.

It was late afternoon before another knock came at the door. When Ket answered, he saw two roughly humanoid figures made of animated plant matter. “Um.” He said, taking in their entirely alien appearance.

“We’re here to deliver the bed master Orem requested! I’m Belladonna, and this is Verdauga.” The creature on the left spoke immediately in a chirpy feminine voice, interrupting Ket’s confusion. 

“You’re not an eladrin, I though master Orem was dealing with a family emergency?” The creature on the right followed up quickly in a raspy, more masculine sounding voice as the two of them made to enter the room, pulling a giant but to all appearances mostly empty sack behind them.

“Um. Yes. I’m only half eladrin. The emergency isn’t with Orem’s family though, it’s with mine. I’m a… an old friend of his. We traveled together for a long time.” Ket quickly regained his composure as he followed the two wilden back into the suite.

“I see, I see. So you’re _that_ Ket! Pleasure to meet you. What’s your other half? I’ve never seen something like you before.” Belladonna let go of the sack in the middle of the room and turned to face Ket as she spoke, curiosity twinkling in her strange black eyes.

“Human. I’ve certainly never seen anything like you before either,” Ket replied.

“Oh, we’re wilden. We’re new.” Verdauga answered as he easily lifted the large wooden desk and carried it away into the arcane workshop.

The two wilden converged on the sack and opened it. The mouth of the bag opened far wider than Ket was expecting, and he realized that the container must be an oversized handy haversack or something similar. The two quickly dragged a very large wooden bed out of the mouth of the sack. Belladonna spared a moment to shoot a delighted grin over her shoulder at Ket. The half-elf was watching, impressed, with his eyebrows raised. “Master Orem came up with this, it makes moving so much easier!”

After the bed came four ornately carved posts, which the wilden fitted into slots at the corners of the frame. Finally, the two pulled yards and yards of softly glistening midnight-blue fabric out of the bag. The fabric unfurled to form a canopy with long tails at the corners that Belladonna swagged about the posts. The finished piece was sleigh shaped, carved to look like it was being overgrown by verdant flowering vines. The four posts had been shaped and hollowed until they looked like cylinders of wooden lace that rose, in spiraling diamonds, to the twinkling canopy. The dark blue fabric was plush and studded with enchanted crystals that glowed softly, evoking a field of stars.

“Incredible.” Ket inspected the bed from all angles. It was already made up with pale blue silken sheets and was piled high with large fluffy pillows. Everything about it was completely excessive. “I’m sure Orem will be entirely overcome.”

“Oh I do hope he likes it,” Belladonna started, clasping her hands together effusively.

“He’s never requested anything before, so we were terribly excited!” Verdauga finished.

“I can certainly tell.” Ket answered, suppressing a smile.

Shortly after the wilden left, Gai flew to Ket’s shoulder and tugged at the sleeve of his robe. “He’s sort of awake.”

Ket rushed to his brother’s side. It was only the second time Emil had stirred since Orem had been the one watching him. Despite having entered the feywild several days ago, his condition was still slowly declining. It would seem distance from the source of the affliction wasn’t any help. 

“Coming here was long shot, but I wouldn’t have bet on Orem being so disinterested. He always seemed eager enough to help anyone that needed it before.” He grumbled to himself as he coaxed his brother into drinking the contents of the flask left by Arvall. The fever of the night before had returned, but Emil no longer tossed restlessly in his sleep. He lay still as death when Ket set him down despite the flush of heat radiating off of him. The half-elf knelt by his brother’s side for a moment, elbows braced on the couch, head resting on his clenched fists, amusements of the day forgotten. He cautiously lifted the boy, holding him away from his chest this time, and carried him the few steps to the bed.

Ket was pacing the room impatiently when he heard voices approaching in the hall late that evening.

“By Corellon’s beard! I’ve been in the Spear since I arrived. I don’t need instructions on how to run it! Furthermore, I studied military tactics at the university in Shallai, I’m more than qualified. I just wanted to make sure you can really spare this sword.” An unfamiliar female voice spoke, becoming clearer until it stopped right in front of the door.

After a tense pause, Orem’s voice answered crisply. “Yes, yes, but it wouldn’t do for me to turn over command without being seen to give you instruction. I have another sword I can use, and the symbolism of turning my blade over to you is important.”

“Of course master Orem. Sorry for being sharp with you. It’s just, you’re so worn out. I can do this for you, so _let me_. I can take over teaching too, so you can attend to your personal matters.” The female voice spoke again, softer this time.

“That’s out of the question. I do want you to teach, but the transition must be gradual. I can’t shirk my responsibilities all of a sudden because I need to take care of a private concern. Besides, there’s time enough for me to do both.” Orem’s tone had become quite chilly.

If the chill bothered the woman, she gave no indication. “Very well. But if I can help, you know where to find me. You don’t need to impress _me_ with your omnipresence.” There was a soft sound of receding footsteps and a few long moments of silence before the door opened.

***

Orem closed his eyes wearily and composed himself before entering the suite. He was tired and hungry and had run out of patience hours ago without ever letting on. Maintaining an air of civility and composure was a particular challenge under such trying conditions, and he let his shoulders sag and his face crumple with frustration and sorrow for a few moments before he had to face the next task in this never-ending day.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here there be drama.

One hand on the doorknob, Orem reached deep down and found the tiny kernel of perfect calm at the very core of his being. Cultivating an inner bastion of calm was one of the first lessons eladrin children learned, for protection against a world that preyed upon emotions. _I can do this,_ he thought to himself. _I can keep everyone safe, and I can save Emil too._ When he opened the door Ket was right there, staring.

“Hello, Ket. How is your injury?” Orem stopped in the entryway, uncertain how to proceed. He hadn’t expected Ket to be blocking his path, but didn’t want to brush by the half-elf. It was his suite, and he only entertained people in his rooms for business and political reasons. There were no clear social protocols to follow in this situation and he found himself quite discomfited as a result.

“Fine. It’s fine.” Ket was staring at him with hollow eyes, unmoving. The tense lines of his limbs betrayed the nervous energy roiling beneath his still exterior.

“And… your brother?” Orem shifted his weight uncomfortably.

“He’s getting worse. I need your help.” Ket turned and moved toward the bed, anxiety screaming from the stiff straightness of his spine and his tightly clenched fists.

When Orem saw the bed he lifted his right hand, fingers splayed, in a brief gesture of incredulity and dismay before curling his fingers and dropping his arm in defeat. “Yes, and you have it. I trust you found the notes I left for you?” He would have time to be outraged later by the strictly excessive bed which he imagined he could not politely get rid of once his companions went back on their way and his solitary existence resumed. He supposed he might become accustomed to it eventually.

“Yeah. You have a key for that shorthand system?” Ket fidgeted by the bedside as Orem laid one hand on Emil’s brow and absently stirred the air with the other, starting a magical breeze to cool and ventilate beneath the canopy of the bed.

“Oh, of course. I should really tend your injury first though.” When Orem gestured at the chair Ket had sat in the night before, the half-elf begrudgingly acquiesced. Shrugging out of the light robe, he exposed his bandaged chest for inspection.

Orem unwound the dressing with rapid surety, his graceful fingers never putting pressure on the wound. Bandages gave way to faintly shimmering brown skin and an oblong white compress covering the front of Ket’s right shoulder and upper chest. Pale hands gently peeled the pad away, revealing the terrible injury. Ket winced when he saw it. The edges were red and puckered like a burn, but the inner area more closely resembled a sheering force wound. A thin layer of yellowish ointment covered the entire area.

“It’s healing well enough, but unfortunately I’ll have to wash it again. The ointment only turns yellow when there’s lingering contamination.” Orem was peering at the wound closely, his face inches from Ket’s chest as he tsked at the ointment. When he absently touched Ket’s shoulder indicating for him to lean back and allow better lighting, the long pale fingers were surprisingly cool. Ket felt goosebumps rise down his spine in response. As Ket began to ponder this physical response, the appearance of a familiar cloth and basin cut his contemplation short.

“Unfortunately?” He asked, eyeing the basin suspiciously.

“Yes, the contamination seems to cause both the unusually high pain sensitivity as well as the hindrance of natural and magical healing, both of which I’m sure you’ve noticed. Unfortunately, cleansing the wound is going to hurt,” Orem replied steadily, meeting Ket’s frown with a face as perfectly expressionless as any mask.

“Great. Let’s get it over with then,” Ket said. 

With Ket watching intently, Orem wetted the cloth in the basin of silvery liquid and, gently as he could, began to wipe the ointment away. Sweat broke out across Ket’s brow as his shoulder alternately burned and froze. His jaws clenched and his throat seized up with the effort not to cry out. Orem set the cloth aside, picked up another clean one, and repeated the process, trying not to wince in sympathy. Time froze for Ket and his vision tunneled as he contended with the savage pain. His entire world constricted to a single point of darkness for an immeasurable length of time. 

Orem continued to gently bathe the wound as the color drained from Ket’s face. Over the course of personally leading and more recently directing the search and rescue exploration, Orem had treated an untold number of weird-inflicted injuries. Through research, careful observation, and experimentation, he’d developed the arcane components of the cleansing wash himself. Despite months of experience hardening himself against the life-saving misery of the treatment, Orem found himself as disturbed by the look on Ket’s face as he’d been the very first time he’d had to treat a similar burn. If he’d arrived any later to that glen, Ket would certainly have died. As he made his final passes with the soft cloth, he shoved the disquiet out of his mind and fought to erase the tension he could feel in his face.

A bitter herbal scent wove through the darkness of Ket’s mind, bringing with it rapid relief from pain. As his vision cleared, Ket registered pale hands packing the glistening white and pink mottled gash with pale green ointment. When the entire surface had been slathered, Orem placed a clean pad over the ointment and began to re-wrap Ket’s arm and upper chest with fresh bandages.

Ket licked his lips and managed a weak “Ow.”

“You never told me, how did you get into the feywild? The boundary has been sealed as firmly as ever this whole time.” Orem focused on the wrapping, placing neat layers of bandage at just the right tension to hold the pad in place without pressing on the open wound. Once again, he directed Ket to lift his arm or lean a particular way with gentle touches at the elbow and shoulder.

“Ah, I called in a few favors, won a bet, made a deal I’m hoping won’t bite me too hard on the other end. It was a unique case,” Ket answered. “When did you become a medic?”

“Well, without Randus around it seemed like a prudent thing to learn.” 

“You can’t expect me to believe there aren’t healers here,” Ket said after a brief pause. He searched Orem’s face for an inkling of the eladrin’s thoughts, but his expression was blank and far away.

“An eldritch protector shouldn’t rely on assistance. And while we have healers, they are few enough that I cannot, in good conscience, risk sending them on expeditions. I trained in medicine and encouraged the volunteer scouts to do the same. Diversification of skill prevents the need to spread valuable resources too thin.” Orem spoke with the condescending patience of a teacher repeating an old lesson to a forgetful child, and Ket bristled slightly at his tone.

The last minutes of bandaging passed in uncomfortable silence. After Orem placed his palm over the end of the bandage and bade the fibers weave into cloth of the underlying layers, Ket leaned back into the chair with a quiet sigh of relief.

“What exactly happened to your brother? Any specific details you have might prove useful,” Orem said. He settled in the chair beside Ket and began making himself a plate from the dinner tray that waited on the table.

“It took me a long time to make my way back to my family. When I got there, the surrounding area was being affected by an angry spirit. The people it influenced fell into a comatose state, waking less and less frequently until they eventually died of dehydration and fever. I was able to defeat the spirit like we did that tempest toad in the Seven Clans region, but my brother came under its influence just before then. Everyone recovered but Emil… Grandmother thought bringing him to the feywild might lessen the lingering influence of the spirit’s curse, or maybe spark something in his fey heritage to help him fight it off.” Ket rested his forehead on the heels of his hands, elbows on his knees, and stared angrily at the plate before him. Enduring a second dressing of his injury seemed to have sapped the vitality out of him. Once again his head and limbs felt heavy. A growing ache had overtaken his shoulder enough to put him on edge as the day wore on, which he noticed now only in the form of its absence.

“Could the spirit have taken advantage of the bond between you two to anchor some part of itself in Emil? Perhaps a cleansing ritual would work.” Orem mused, pulling more pages of notes from the sleeve of his robe.

Brown and blond heads close together, the two poured over notes. Orem explained his shorthand, which Ket was able to pick up without too much difficulty once he understood the system. It was easy to fall back into the comfortable old rhythms of working together, discussing theories and making plans. Yet despite the familiarity, Orem remained somehow aloof. Ket bet his very life on reading people, and he felt in the words and posture of his old companion a measured distance that did not lessen even when he himself began to lower his guard.

***

Yawning fit to split his head in half, Ket leaned away from the table at last after hours of discussion. “Let’s start again in the morning.”

“Yes, you should rest. There are some things I need to gather, and I’ll leave you notes again. I have duties to attend to, but fewer than today.” Orem lifted a hand dismissively to Ket as he continued to arrange the pages on the table to his liking.

The words and the gesture hit Ket like a slap in the face. “You said you would help me, your meetings can’t wait a few days? I heard you talking in the hall, I’m sure there are plenty of people who could cover for you.”

“I am helping. I don’t need nearly as much rest as you, and I can meditate on potential rituals during my trance on top of that. I have this under control.” Orem spoke calmly and reasonably, but his words infuriated the half-elf sitting beside him.

“Under control? My brother is dying! You have no idea how much time he has left or if any of this will work.”

“I know what it’s like to fear for a sibling, but I’m certain we’re on the right track. I have already delegated a number of tasks to focus more fully on saving Emil, but there are expectations I have to meet as eldritch protector and as the master wizard of this keep. Keeping things moving in the right directions here requires my constant attention.” Orem turned to look at Ket with the absolute blandest look the half-elf had ever seen. His voice was infuriatingly patient.

“Funny how you’ve become so ensconced in the eladrin society you claimed to hate, so wrapped up in your titles and image that you’re happy ignoring a life-or-death situation as long as it doesn’t endanger you.” Ket jabbed a finger at Orem, livid.

“You’re accusing _me_ of not caring for the needs of others? You were quick enough to leave me here facing all of this alone against my wishes.” Orem broke under the strain of the accusation, and the hurt in Ket’s voice. For the first time Ket saw emotions swimming in the depths of those bottomless blue eyes, and it twisted his guts when he recognized them.

“It wasn’t like that! Hellfire, you don’t understand! ” He was still angry, to be sure, but that was tempered by a sudden wave of guilt. It appeared he had inadvertently twisted a knife still buried in an unaddressed wound.

“Oh? What exactly do I not understand? That you only traveled with us because you lost a bet? That you only came to the feywild because Asmodeus made you? I understand that perfectly well. You all made my obligations clear as crystal, and I can assure you I’ve taken it very much to heart.” Orem tried to keep his face calm and relaxed and his eyes clear, even as he lost control of the tone of his voice.

“Listen to me-“ Ket reached out, watched as Orem cringed away from the proffered hand.

“Don’t waste your breath or your silver tongue. I’ve spent every spare moment all day thinking of how to help your brother. The books we need won’t find themselves, I’ll be back when I’ve gathered them.” The slender eladrin snapped around and moved briskly out of the room in a whirl of robes. 

Orem had always been sharper with Ket than the other members of their small company. In just the short time they’d spent together over the past day and a half, Ket could tell his behavior now was different. There was no hint of a suppressed smile twitching at the corners of his lips, no sly sidelong glance, no spark of humor in those featureless blue eyes, nor a self-satisfied arch to the barely visible platinum blond eyebrows. This was not the snobby mask of a young wizard playing the stereotypical dignified eldritch master, but a firm and professional coldness that fully enclosed all of Orem’s words and expressions. It was as if his old friend had carefully built a seamless wall of ice around his heart and mind, so nearly indistinguishable from the bearing of a powerful eladrin that it went unnoticed by his kinsmen. So perfect that it had even, ever so briefly, fooled Ket. 

Ket sat stunned for a while after Orem fled the room, dark head bowed.  
“That went well,” a low gravelly voice piped up near Ket’s ear.

“Shut up Gai. Wake me up when he comes back, or if Emil shows any sign of being alert.”

“Sure, sure.” The imp fluttered over to the canopied bed and sat like a sphynx on the pillow next to Emil’s head.

Ket ran a hand over his face in disgust and laid down on the couch with a muted _“damn it”_. He truly was exhausted though, and even his roiling thoughts couldn’t keep him awake for long.

***

Orem flew down the hallway blindly, trusting his feet to find their way to sanctuary. Ever since Torq had sacrificed himself to the Hogba and his friends had vanished back to the material plane, Orem had avoided any discussion of them almost entirely. His parents and his sister had never mentioned any parting words or the reasons, with the exception of Trelle’s twilight guardian duties, why none of his companions had chosen to stay with him. Truthfully, he’d been afraid to ask. He didn’t want to learn that his companions had hoped to remain with him but been turned away by his father’s draconian isolationism any more than he wanted to hear that, with all of existence safe for the moment, his friends had been relieved to leave him and return to their old lives.

He’d never thought he would reach a point when not knowing would hurt more. But with Ket back in his life, Orem found himself wondering for the first time in over a year. “It doesn’t matter! It doesn’t matter what he said, it doesn’t matter why he left. He came to me because he thought I could help, and I will. Family are those whom, when you go to them, are obliged to take you in.” Orem struggled with himself, with the twisting currents of the emotions he’d never sorted through. “It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t understand.” His voice wasn’t strong enough to convince himself. 

This section of the keep was strictly off-limits to everyone but Orem. Being so close to the epicenter of the device that had drained Spud’s power, the structure wasn’t very sound and the arcane currents in the crystal growths that held up what remained of the walls and ceilings were very sensitive to any disturbance. As arcane protector, Orem had therefore taken sole responsibility for reclaiming all that could be managed from this sector of the ruins. It was where he fled when he needed to be alone with his thoughts, and it also potentially housed the information that could save Emil’s life.

Eyes and lungs aching, Orem drew up when he reached the ruins of the library. It had been just one of many, and the smallest at that, but the tomes it contained described magics that were poorly understood and considered exotic even by feywild standards. The advanced arcane studies library would hold the key to Emil’s recovery if such a thing existed. The eladrin breathed deeply and let the scent of ancient paper sooth his worried heart. Down here he could forget the rest of the world, forget the look on Spud’s face when the gnome had asked that all important question. 

What would you have done? If you lost your best friend, your family, your entire world, and you had the power to change everything, what would you do with it?

Orem cursed himself as he looked over the sole scrap of paper he’d found in his pockets. It had notes for Felicia’s dedication ceremony on it, not the potential sectors of interest he’d worked out for his search this evening. He’d left in such a rush that he hadn’t grabbed the papers he needed. Chunking up the ruined structure into smallish squares and assigning them a coordinate system had been Orem’s very first step in reclaiming the treasure trove of information in the small library. While he did have a general idea of the finished stacks and unrecovered quadrants to examine, it would take much longer without the precise coordinates he’d worked out as locations of primary interest. Going back upstairs to reclaim his notes would just waste valuable time. Instead, Orem set to work.

The stacks of mended tomes and scrolls represented the minority of the available literature, and that’s where Orem started. Better still, the stacks were organized roughly by areas of research and magic, so Orem was able to pick out two scrolls and a thick tome he’d thought might be useful and had vaguely remembered mending some time ago. From there the search would be more difficult, but Orem dove into the damaged shelves unreservedly. Plumes of dust rose at his every move and filled the room with a pall of motes that swirled and churned in time to the storm raging in his mind.

***

Once again, Ket was roused by the slow shift of sunlight crossing his face. Frowning as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, the half-elf looked around the room in confusion. “Gai? What happened?” His gaze fell upon the imp, still curled on a pillow by Emil’s head.

“He never woke up. Other one never came back.” The imp turned its unblinking gaze on Ket and yawned, showing a mouthful of fangs.

“Really?” Ket asked, incredulous and irritated. “What time is it?” Perhaps the eladrin had sought solace with that second in command of his.

Gai shrugged at the question moments before the door flew open and Orem blew into the room like an autumn breeze, rumpled and dusty and hectic, haloed by debris. Ket took in the eladrin’s red-rimmed eyes and disheveled hair, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“What, your girlfriend made you sleep in the basement?” Ket asked, intentionally antagonistic. A number of tomes and scrolls came floating into the room borne by unseen servants as Orem stood transfixed, panting.

“Eh?” Orem snapped to with a confused noise, gaze focusing on Ket.

“What were you doing all night?” Ket asked, trying his best to keep the anger of the previous night out of his voice. He had just enough remorse left over to manage it in the face of his renewed irritation.

“Research. Gathering literature.” The momentary focus drifted into a distant gaze again. “I’m going to be late for the scout report meeting.” Orem rushed to the left into his dressing room, floundering out of his over robe and dropping it on the floor inside the smaller room as he moved. One pale hand tugged at his cream-colored under robes while the other rifled feverishly through a wardrobe. After a few tugs the dust and wrinkles fell out of the under robes as a faintly visible shimmer of magic flowed through the cloth. Orem pulled out a silver-trimmed lilac and grey robe and threw it over his magically straightened under robes, running a quick hand through his hair as he did so, fingers sparking faintly. He then rushed back towards the entryway of the suite, shedding a trail of dust and papers in his wake.

 _He’s not going out like that is he?_ Ket wondered to himself. He’d rarely seen Orem so disheveled. “Orem, wait!” Ket called after him as he neared the door.

Orem turned to face him, eyes wide, brows lifted and furrowed in distress. “What?”

Ket closed the distance between them quickly. “You hair spell didn’t work. Did you not rest at all last night?”

Orem ran his fingers through his hair two more times in frustration, but no shimmer of magic rose to wipe away the dust or resettle his tousled locks. “No?”

“You sure your girlfriend or your seneschal can’t handle the meeting for you?” Ket asked irritably, arms akimbo. 

“I can’t imagine where you got that idea, but I don’t have a girlfriend. I’ve always headed the search efforts, and the scouts have always reported directly to me. I have to go. Now.” Orem replied, resolve audibly hardening with every word.

Ket felt the anger born of his anxiety drain away at the almost childish dismay on Orem’s face. In this moment, he seemed just like the traveling companion Ket had known. Making a snap decision, he rolled his eyes and used the sleeve of his borrowed robe to sweep away the dust before quickly finger-combing the long blond hair into a fair semblance of its usual order. “You may as well be presentable then. When will you have time to explain this mess?” Ket spoke as he worked, gesturing to the floating books and scattered notes when he had a hand free. Orem had always been stubborn and snobby, but under it all he had a good heart. If he was this desperate to attend a meeting, he wasn’t doing it to posture.

Orem closed his eyes and pressed the palms of his hands to his face and answered in a muffled voice, “One class before lunch, and one after. Early afternoon I think.” A shake of his head revealed locks of hair stuck beneath the over robe, and Ket ran a quick a hand behind the nape of Orem’s neck to free them. A faint flush bloomed in his pale cheeks as he looked up at Ket. “Th-thank you,” he blurted, before turning sharply and dashing from the room. He fought the urge to press his hand to the back of his neck where Ket’s fingers had brushed his skin. No one had fixed his hair since he was a small child, and the lingering warmth of being looked after set to work soothing away the frozen tangle of betrayal and loneliness buried deep in his heart. 

***

Ket was spared the embarrassment of Orem’s gaze as a matching flush of heat rose in his face. With measured strides, he moved to the side of the bed and looked down at his hands. Just hours ago, Orem had flinched away from his touch. Ket wasn’t sure exactly what had passed between them just now, but he didn’t have time to worry about it. After replacing the cool cloth on his brother’s forehead, Ket set about gathering the scattered papers from Orem’s late night studies. He would be ready when the eladrin returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your quick responses to my comment on the last chapter, it's really helping me as I go forward in deciding what parts to show in detail. Also, it's nice (and enlightening) to know that you share my enthusiasm for that kind of slice of life content!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ket worries and Orem pays the price for his overexertion.

“-dorn. Master Rivendorn?” Orem blinked and focused his eyes on the trio of eladrin sitting across the table from him. The last few minutes, in which the three squad leaders had given their reports, were misty and distant in his mind. With an effort Orem brought the pertinent information to the forefront of his thoughts.

“Thank you captains, I am beyond proud of your efforts around Wards. Of course, we would all hope to find more survivors, but at least your squads encountered no sign of lives lost.” Orem nodded solemnly to each captain in turn.

“Thank you sir,” The center eladrin replied, an intense female with chestnut hair and blue grey eyes. She sat preternaturally still while her two companions glanced nervously at her. After an uncomfortable pause, she continued. “Concerning our request sir?”

“Yes. Your… request.” Orem stared gamely back into her eyes, keeping his face perfectly blank as he tried to reach through the fog of disorganized thoughts to the information he needed. Thankfully, it came to him after a few moments of effort. 

“Of course. Lending our strength to reclaim the twin cities from the mist aligns perfectly with the purpose for which I established the Spear. I would be happy to hear your recommended assignments for this duty.” Orem pursed his lips slightly to keep them from curling up in a smile. When Kammis had forced him to step down from scouting and elevate his former underlings to positions of command, it had torn at his heart. Watching those young warriors take up the task with earnest passion, however, almost made up for the freedom lost. Elbows resting on the corner of the table, Orem steepled his fingers in front of his chin. “I presume you brought preliminary assignments to discuss?”

“Oh, yes Sir, of course!” The center captain snapped, taut as a bowstring with nervous excitement. The eladrin to her left, a young male with flaming red hair and jade green eyes, drew a bundle of papers from his satchel and arranged them quickly before Orem. They were still too young, too enthusiastic and new to command to present their own plans with poise and confidence. With time they would learn not to rush, to smooth papers serenely, not to elbow one another like children fighting over the last slice of tart. For the time being however, Orem found their lack of decorum both charming and a refreshing change from the endless planning and resource management meetings largely attended by conservative older eladrin and gnomes.

The mental comparison of meeting atmospheres nearly drew Orem’s attention wandering away from the meeting once more. He drew a deep but quiet breath and fought to steel his focus against distraction. Pouring over lists of names and maps broken into small neat squares, Orem poured all his mental fortitude into recalling individual faces, the strengths and weaknesses of his scouts as he reviewed the proposed parties and duty assignments. He couldn’t afford any loss of life on these missions, and certainly not in response to a logistical oversight.

A tug at Orem’s sleeve pulled his attention away from the papers in front of him. Turning with a frown, he saw a bright eyed eladrin child waiting as politely as possible. “Oh, Fianette. Is something wrong?”

“Only that if you keep standing in front of the door like that we’ll be late for class, Master Orem.” The small girl cocked her head slightly to the right, indicating the door with one hand.

Orem blinked slowly, taking in the realization that he was no longer sitting in the meeting room. Try though he might, Orem couldn’t recall how the meeting had adjourned, or walking to this room where he taught basic spellcraft. _I can’t remember the last time I was this exhausted,_ he thought. “My apologies, I was lost in thought. Let’s go ahead then.”

 

***

Back in the suite, Ket jotted a quick note to Arvall. Although he intended only a brief message, it took him longer than anticipated to find the correct words. A nagging irritation kept interfering with his thoughts. The relationship between Orem and the female eladrin he’d heard the night before was unclear, but even if she was merely a friend or a former student, surely she could exert some power of moderation upon Orem. There had been clear familiarity in her tone, and her immunity to Orem’s cultivated coldness spoke of understanding between the two of them. “Someone like that, someone who’s been here and knows what’s going on should be doing more,” Ket grumbled under his breath, quill pen hovering indecisively over the blank parchment. 

_You might consider sending someone to check in on Orem’s classes today, it seems he has not taken the time to meditate and replenish his arcane powers. Far be it from me to suggest he is not being properly looked after, but he has on occasion required someone to rein him in._

_-Ket_

 

After handing the note over to the runner in the hall, Ket gathered the first set of notes and settled himself against the foot of the bed. Spreading the pages over the plush coverlet before him, he began pouring over the notes. Primal magic was not commonly practiced by fey creatures, but Orem had unearthed several old scrolls on the topic written by former cerulean grove graduates who had gone adventuring in the natural world. From those accounts and excerpts from several books, it seemed the eladrin had drawn up a few outlines for possible purification rituals. His notes indicated that additional information on the nature of the originating spirit might be necessary, and so Ket would need to closely study his brother.

Ket sat just below his brother’s feet with Gai by Emil’s right shoulder and Shadow by his left. All three intently scanned the arcane and spiritual currents around the unconscious adolescent. Emil had never shown any hint of arcane abilities. Although he resembled his older siblings physically, Emil had always seemed a little less other, a little more connected to the material plane. The human blood ran more strongly in his veins. Ket caught a faint hint of an aura about him now. After being away for so long it was difficult to tell if this had developed naturally as Emil drew nearer his teenage years, if it was a shadow of the spirit’s taint, if entering the feywild had fanned the spark of Emil’s eladrin heritage, or if Ket’s own growth in his primal and arcane powers had simply rendered him better able to detect such a faint emanation of power.

Ket ran his hands down his face with a sigh and reached for a large soft brush and pot of earthy smelling paste by the bedside. Reaching out gently, Ket smoothed the hair away from Emil’s forehead with his left hand and began drawing mystical designs with his right. If Orem’s research the previous night was correct, this modified scrying ritual might provide the additional information needed to cleanse Emil of the lingering contamination. The unconscious boy’s brow was warm and beaded with sweat, his breathing shallow. Ket swallowed hard as he waited impatiently for the design to dry, trying and failing to set aside the sharp pangs of anxiety he felt for his brother.

When the paste dried on Emil’s face, Ket similarly anointed the hollow at the base of his brother’s throat and the backs of his hands before duplicating the designs on his own face, neck, and hands. He sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed, eyes closed, head bowed, and strained to feel for a connection between himself and his brother. Bringing the instructions from Orem’s notes to the forefront of his mind, he found himself focused for a moment too long on a pale face, blue eyes wide and cheeks flushed pink, pale cupid’s bow lips parted slightly in surprise. Ket’s brows furrowed as he banished Orem’s face from his mind and reached again for his brother. Always a small bumbling child, lacking the innate energy and coordination of his older siblings, wide brown eyes set in a softer, rounder face. Eyes that always looked up to Ket with adoration, even as he grew taller and stronger. Playing through the images in his mind, Ket suddenly realized he could feel the ties of spirit magic binding him to his brother. Emil’s magical aura felt clear around him now, a thin sheen of fey power blooming out of the boy’s soul in response to the call of the feywild itself. A taint lay along the outer edges, seeping inwards towards the core of Emil’s being. The feeling was familiar- Ket was sure now that it came from the spirit he’d confronted in Cold Port. 

The strength of the spell continued to grow, and Ket saw for the first time the way he was inextricably linked to his brother, understood that they had always been so tied by the nature of their heritage and the familial love between them. “My fault… It was my fault,” Ket murmured, horror stricken.

***

“Now that we’ve thoroughly discussed the theory behind it and practiced the verbal and somatic components, it’s time to put everything together and try summoning your very first wizard’s shield. A proper shield should be both tough so a cutting implement can’t penetrate it, and slippery such that a heavy force will slide off of it. It is the most important defense that a young magician can summon against physical attacks,” Orem lectured, gesturing for the semicircle of a dozen youngsters to stand. Rising himself from the desk he’d been seated at, Orem felt briefly light-headed. Steadying himself briefly against the desk, he reached deep into the nearly depleted well of his arcane reserves and summoned a shield for demonstration.

“See how the light of the barrier flows and expands with me as I move? The balance between strength and flexibility is important. Without flexibility, the shield will become brittle, and prone to failure.” As Orem spoke, Felicia slid unnoticed behind him and cuffed the back of his head sharply. The light of his shield flickered briefly before shattering into a million pieces. He blinked a few times in shock, feeling a cold prickling sensation crawl along his scalp and across his face. 

“Ah, yes, like that. That is precisely what happens when a force meets an improperly formed shield. Felicia, thank you for that, ah, demonstration.” Orem continued, trying his best to appear unfazed.

“It is always a pleasure to assist your lessons, Master Orem. May I have a moment of your time?” She replied, gesturing towards the door, which was standing open. Orem cursed himself for not seeing or hearing her approach, which apparently had not even been stealthy.

The two egressed to the hallway, Felicia closing the door behind them. The tiny eladrin woman glared up at Orem, clearly gauging the degree to which his arcane reservoir had been depleted. 

“Master Orem, what are you doing? You can’t teach in this condition, and you could cause permanent harm to yourself if you insist on trying. Go rest.”

“Nonsense, I’m fine. You’ll worry the children.” Orem moved to get around Felicia toward the door, but she easily caught his wrist and began pulling him away.

“Look at yourself, you’re not fine. Just go rest, I will take care of the classes.” Felicia released Orem’s wrist and gave him a none-too-gentle shove in the direction of his suite that sent him stumbling.

Orem opened his mouth with the intention of making a retort, and found himself alone in the hallway, door closed. With a sigh he began making his way somewhat unsteadily toward his rooms. The sensation of magical overexertion was not foreign to Orem, and he recognized it in the cold prickling across his face and the shaking of his hands. _I haven’t depleted myself like this in years, I must have lost track of the spells I was using in the library_ he thought as he stumbled onward toward refuge.

***

Ket looked up from cleaning the paste off himself at the sound of the suite door opening. He’d been expecting a tray of lunch, but watched as a pale and bedraggled Orem staggered into the room instead. Orem closed the door behind him and collapsed bonelessly to the floor faster than Ket could react. The half elf bounded from the basin on the table to the doorway to inspect his companion. Orem’s skin was exceptionally pale and his wide open eyes were staring into nothing, their color dull in a way Ket had never seen before.

“Orem,” Ket said, putting a gentle hand on his thin shoulder. “Orem, can you hear me?” Ket tried again, shaking the eladrin gently when he did not immediately respond. Ket’s hand hesitated for several moments before cupping Orem’s cheek to turn the eladrin’s head so he could look directly into his eyes. Orem’s skin was cool and clammy as if he were in shock. If eladrin could experience something so mundane as biological shock. “Orem, blink if you can hear me,” Ket said, searching Orem’s eyes for any hint of understanding and finding none. “Fine. I’m moving you, and then I’m going to figure out what to do with you.” He gently lifted Orem’s unresponsive body; rather alarmingly light and delicate feeling under the concealing bulkiness of his layered robes. “As if I don’t already have enough problems.”

Ket laid Orem gently on the couch and, casting around for a blanket to cover him, found only his own bedroll. “Hey Gai?”

“Yeah what?” the imp fluttered over from Emil’s side to the low table by the couch.

“I think he’s just expended all of his magic. Can you make anything of this?” Ket pointed at Orem and watched as his imp peered in one of Orem’s eyes, opened his mouth to look at his throat, first sniffed and then licked the eladrin’s face.

“Seems like you’re right, and it looks like he’s in a deep trance. I mean, I don't think he'd be the type to take licking kindly. By the way, did you know your elfy guy tasted sweet?” The imp turned back to Ket as it spoke, giving a big toothy grin.

“I… No.” Ket pressed his forefinger and thumb to the bridge of his nose in exasperation before shooing Gai back to the bed. Pacing the room restlessly, Ket found he could not escape the heavy feeling of dread hanging in the air. 

_I wasn’t able to bring Orem away from here and now he’s built a wall to keep anyone from seeing him, let alone taking care of him... and going back to Cold Port, not letting Grandmother know so she could take Emil and Charlotte away to safety, I caused the spirit’s curse to rebound on him…_

“I can still fix this.” Ket fought against the guilt and the anxiety pooling within him. He gathered the rest of the notes he hadn’t gotten through and settled in a chair to pour over them, determination writ large across his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this turned in a different direction than I was initially expecting, but I'm looking forward to seeing where it goes.
> 
> My science is currently a hot mess so my thesis defense is being postponed... So updates will remain unpredictable until I exit the special hell I'm currently inhabiting. I apologize for the inconvenience and hope you all enjoy this next bit I was able to write.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Orem pays the price for not resting in the past 60 or so hours, and both Orem and Ket struggle with their feelings.

For Orem, the intervening distance between the classroom and his suite was passed between one breath and the next without recollection of the trip. The tidal wave of exhaustion and magical depletion caught up with Orem as he crossed the threshold, crashing over him with sudden finality. His vision tunneled and grew dim and his hearing became muffled as if he truly had been subsumed by a great depth of water. He was vaguely aware of Ket’s worried face peering at him, lips shaping inaudible words, and a warm comforting hand cradling his face, but the experience was so far removed from his sense of self that Orem could manage no reply.

Orem hardly even processed the indignities of being picked up like a child and bundled into Ket’s bedroll on the couch, or having his face licked by an imp. Time felt thicker than usual, while simultaneously Orem’s inability to focus swallowed chunks of his awareness whole. Ket’s face swung through his field of view from time to time like the sun and moon wheeling through the sky as Orem slowly re-associated with himself, an anchor holding his mind in the present. A warm damp compress on his forehead gave off a sharply bitter scent, a second point of contact that Orem latched onto and used like a rope to pull his scattered thoughts back together.

Some time later, Orem was conscious of being raised to a seated position against a lean shoulder. He drank without resistance the bitter tea that was shortly thereafter pressed to his lips. Minute by minute Orem’s mind grew clearer as he swept his fears and doubts aside like so many cobwebs. The rest of his thoughts he neatly cataloged, lost fragments of memory from the day restored to their proper places. Ket’s worried expression and the faintly rough feeling of Ket’s lightly callused hand against his cheek returned again and again, unbidden, to Orem’s thoughts, stubbornly refusing to stay in their proper places. As his focus and clarity of mind returned, Orem eventually managed to settle the memories in their proper places and move on, revisiting the plans he’d left for Ket. Orem intended to be ready to act as soon as his powers were sufficiently rejuvenated by the medicines and rest.

***

The interminable waiting wore heavily on Ket. His reading was punctuated by brisk laps of the room, his steps a sharp staccato against the oppressive silence as he moved again and again from desk to bedside to couch, checking on Emil and Orem in turn. Even Gai was quiet, still making up for his sleepless night. As the color returned to Orem’s face and the light to his blankly staring eyes, Ket fought the urge to shake the eladrin from his trance. Only the fact that rousing him to yell at him for not resting properly would be entirely counterproductive kept Ket from doing so. It was more than just frustration at Orem’s stubborn insistence upon taking on more than he could manage, more than dread and anxiety over Emil’s worsening condition. Looking down at Orem's drawn expression hurt his heart. Both the feeling itself as well as its intensity was somewhat unsettling, not easily ascribed to their somewhat tumultuous friendship. It was not entirely foreign, however. Ket would be lying to himself if he tried to deny having felt similar pangs for Orem after learning what had become of the Eladrin people.

When Ket had been returned to the feywild by Asmodeus to rejoin the party, he'd noticed at once something quite different in Orem's bearing. Of course he would- this particular world ending crisis was personal to the eladrin in a way that the celestial crusade simply hadn't been. They had all known it would be no simple feat for the feywild to rebound from the lunar calamity, not that the prime material plane had it much better. Ket's own journeys since leaving had been anything but easy. Even so, Ket felt an undercurrent of emotion he was trying not to acknowledge tugging at the pit of his stomach. 

Ket always planned his words and actions carefully to achieve his desired goals, but not everyone was so circumspect. The words used by Orem's family and even by his friends in those final moments had been perhaps too cruel. Seeing what Orem had made of that experience, the thing he'd forced himself to become and how heavily it clearly weighed on him- Ket could see he'd been poorly served. Looking down at Orem, he made a futile effort to convince himself that the unsettling feeling was merely lingering irritation over the misstep that had led to his banishment at the hands of Brall Rivendorn. He should have known he couldn't bring Orem away. At the very least the moment had been wrong, the words too laden with blame. If he'd just stayed, if any of them had stayed...

If there was anything Ket hated more than losing, it was being wrong. And the only thing he hated more than that was having to dwell on the outcome of being wrong. Searching for a distraction, Ket went back to rummaging through the notes Orem had left at the eladrin’s writing desk, which he’d commandeered for his own use. He could tolerate working stooped over a low table from an opulent overstuffed chair for only so long. Unfortunately, Ket had already worked his way through all of the materials Orem had left several times. He needed a better diversion. The half-elf began flipping through errant sheets of paper on the desk, hoping to turn up some scrap of notes or a diagram that had previously escaped his notice.

To Ket's frustration, every page he skimmed contained only dry managerial business. Fingers moving briskly, Ket flipped faster and faster, impatient to reach the end but unwilling to stop without doing so. An assembly of sketches toward the bottom of the stack caught his attention. They were designs for statues. One of the faces was painfully familiar- a slack jawed ¾ Orc with ram’s horns and vacant eyes. The other sketch was of a vaguely familiar young man in a smith’s apron, the party member who had not made it back from the moon. Ket had seen him in a nightmare exactly once, during his trip to the Demon Web. From the notes in the margins, Ket was able to gather that these statues were meant to scale accurately with the remaining statue of Althern standing in one of the gardens. That would make the statue of Torq truly enormous, easily 25 feet tall. 

An estimated cost in time and materials for the two statues was crossed out angrily at the bottom of the page. Ket ran his fingertips over the figures, where he felt ridges carved into the paper by overly aggressive strokes of a quill. “Why didn’t you have them made? Nobody would begrudge you a memorial,” Ket murmured, shaking his head. Turning back to the couch, he looked over his friend whose forehead remained creased with worry, even now while at rest. That Orem couldn’t even allow himself the emotional release of having the memorial made hurt Ket deeply. The Orem he knew would never have internalized his family’s accusations of immaturity and irresponsibility to such an all-encompassing and self-destructive extent. Of course, the Orem he knew had never been allowed to retreat into himself with such an egregious hurt. His friends would never have allowed it.

Another stab of regret and something else, something he stubbornly refused to put a name to, shot through Ket. He crossed the room and bent to press his forehead against Orem’s, the only clear sign of physical affection he’d ever seen the eladrin voluntarily participate in. “I didn’t intend to leave you behind, but I’m here now. I’ll find a way to make it enough,” he whispered. Eyes closed, Ket lingered for a long moment, breathing in the familiar heady scent of lilac that always surrounded Orem, accompanied now by a sharp medicinal counterpoint from the herbal compress. It would have to be enough.

Afternoon had passed into evening by the time Orem slowly sat up. A heavy damp compress tumbled down his face to land with a dull thwap on his lap. He was wrapped in a bedroll that smelled familiar, of woodsmoke, leather, musk, and very faintly of brimstone. Ket’s. Orem breathed the comforting scent in deeply, soaking it into the very core of his being. He would keep it with him, would remember it clearly when he returned to his isolation. Satisfied, the eladrin wriggled experimentally, feeling the renewed strength in his limbs. Made impulsive by his impatience, Orem them rapidly pulled himself out of the bedroll and leapt off the couch, intending to throw himself back to work immediately.

Ket’s hearing, attuned to the quiet sounds of barely-wakeful stirring from tending to his brother, moved quickly to Orem’s side before his unexpected burst of activity. For his efforts, Ket arrived just in time to receive two sharp elbows in his ribcage as Orem abruptly made a rather uncoordinated bid to quit his horizontal position. “Gah,” Ket gasped unintentionally as some of the breath was forcefully knocked out of him. Orem ricocheted off Ket’s chest and lost his tenuous balance, teetering away at an angle.

“Careful!” Ket yelped. Balancing himself against the back of a chair, Ket snaked a quick arm around Orem’s waist to keep him from braining himself on the corner of the table. It took next to no effort to pull Orem’s slight frame upright. As the eladrin’s head jolted against his left shoulder, Ket surmised that he may in fact have been slightly overzealous with his use of force.

“I’m ready!” Orem panted, steadying himself where he leaned against the taller man. Ket’s arm was slung around him, almost in an embrace, his hand resting on Orem’s hip. Such abrupt and cavalier closeness was something Orem would normally recoil from immediately, skin crawling. This time though, Orem felt an unfamiliar warmth building inside him. Ket’s soft words from hours before, spoken without the intention of being heard, returned to Orem’s thoughts. He was somehow... comfortable like this.

“Orem?” The eladrin looked up into concerned dark brown eyes when Ket spoke his name. Orem’s stomach turned over uncomfortably when he met Ket's gaze, and he felt a warm blush creep across his face once more. He stepped away quickly, Ket’s arm dropping without resistance as he did so.

Orem cleared his throat and looked down. “Yes. I’m… I’m sorry. Are you prepared?” He heard Ket expel a long breath and glanced up tentatively.  
“For what exactly? You were right by the way, the spirit became attached to him by flowing through the bond between us after I discorporated it. I think the third ritual you found should work with some modifications,” Ket replied. He was turned away, shoulders tense beneath the too-small robe.

“Oh. Ah. Right. I take it you were able to observe his aura then? Show me your notes. We should begin making those modifications immediately.” Even as Orem began his stuttered response, Ket was moving to the desk. The half-elf picked up his notes and flapped them at Orem over his right shoulder, still faced away.

“Great, bring them over. I had some thoughts on altering the drawn patterns to better reflect the combination of human and fey heritage that I want to illustrate for you.” Orem hurried nervously to his study to fetch more paper and another quill, pointedly avoiding the desk Ket stood at. He returned to sit cross legged before the low table across the room and began drawing.

***

Protected from Orem’s view, Ket pressed his left hand to his face, breathing deeply and slowly in an attempt to calm the remainder of his own spate of furious blushes. _What am I, a child? I don’t_ **do** _flustered. This is absolutely ridiculous, and moreover, I do not have time for it._ Even as he tried to clear his mind, he couldn’t push away the feeling of Orem’s face nestled against the base of his neck just moments ago, cheekbone resting in the hollow above his clavicle, nor the way his lithe, elegant form fit perfectly against his own side during those lingering moments of closeness. _There’s no way THIS is happening. To me. Right now._ Ket did not turn to face Orem until he was certain he had regained control of his expression.

“I think I’ve found what I needed. Let me see what you’ve got and we’ll go from there,” Ket said.

***

It took several hours to modify and perfect the symbols that would be drawn on Emil for the cleansing ritual. Once they were ready, Ket carried his brother to the balcony. They would perform the cleansing there, in the fragrant open air of the Spring wood. He removed the boy’s robe and tossed it aside, leaving Emil bare to the waist. After pillowing his brother’s head on a sachet filled with sweet pea, lavender, and sage, Ket began painting the designs on his stomach, chest, face and hands.

Inside, Orem prepared a vessel to contain any residual spirit contaminant that came free during the ritual. He selected a clear crystal jar and painted it with symbols that mirrored the ones Ket was drawing on Emil. Once the pattern was complete, Orem used his magic to physically etch the designs into the crystal, following the pattern he’d drawn. He wanted to be sure the contamination would never be released by a careless disruption of the pattern through time or accident.

When Orem finished, he took the jar out to the balcony where he could see Ket waiting. The half-elf knelt by his brother, dark head bowed. He didn’t look up at the sound of Orem’s approaching steps, although the eladrin was certain he heard them. He reached out tentatively, then stopped, drawing his hand part way back. Orem wasn’t sure if the gesture was appropriate in this moment, and worse, didn’t know if he could bear rejection, should it come to that. _Then again, they’ll just leave anyway. It’s not like it matters._ Steeling himself, he reached out again and gently rested his hand on the nape of Ket’s neck. Ket tensed briefly but didn’t pull away, and as Orem’s fingers settled more confidently along the curve of his neck, Orem could feel Ket trembling. _Afraid for his brother, or something more…? Surely not._ “Are you ready?” Orem finally asked, moving to stand right beside his companion.

Ket leaned his head against Orem’s leg once the eladrin drew closer, eyes closed. He was both excited and afraid to begin. He wanted so badly for this to work, for his brother to be saved. At the same time, he recognized that his experience as a so-called bright one was incredibly limited, and that Orem lacked even that. What if the ritual failed? What if it rebounded and killed Emil? He had been impatient to get to this point but, having arrived, he now trembled at the precipice. He took the proffered jar and placed it in a small magic circle beside him, painted directly onto on the stone just above Emil’s head. For one more breath he paused, indecisive. Then Ket reached up again and took the hand that still rested on his neck in his own and stood. Orem’s fingers curled limply in his palm in surprise, and Ket interlaced his own fingers into the spaces left open before he stood. “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really appreciate your patience and continued interest in my story. I have two weeks left to finish my thesis, which is currently over 100 pages long with probably a good 20-40 pages left depending on how long-winded my two remaining introduction sections and my abstract end up being. I'm dying inside, I truly am. Since I receive such aggressive and generally negative feedback on my scientific writing, it's been really nice to put something out for all of you that you not only enjoy, but actually say nice things about! It keeps me from feeling completely defeated by my currently miserable existence. So, sorry for the delay, I hope you like this chapter (I certainly enjoyed writing it), and there's probably only one more left that hopefully won't be quite so delayed.
> 
> <3 Aeralyn


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The denouement, final revision.

_Oh! Oh._ Once his surprise abated, Orem squeezed Ket’s hand in what he hoped was an encouraging way before releasing it, and moved to stand by Emil’s head. Ket took up his own position by Emil’s feet. He took an extra moment to square his stance before meeting Orem’s eyes and taking a deep breath. He started the incantation. Orem’s voice joined in seamlessly, a testament both to his skill as a ritual caster and the many times they’d worked together.

Before Ket’s eyes, gleaming strands of light stretched between the two of them, weaving themselves into a roughly hammock-shaped web. The web fell slowly toward Emil and settled over top of him like a sheet of the finest gossamer silk for just a heartbeat. Every strand of light pulsed softly in unison as the magic melted into the boy, leaving a fine tracery of silver all over his bare chest and face. 

As the ancient ritual books had instructed, Ket reached in his mind’s eye for the thick metaphysical cord that bound him to his brother. It was easy to identify this time. He poured himself into the bond, feeding it with memories from his childhood. When he felt the spirit contamination stir, he sank hooks into it and _pulled_ with the entire strength of his mind and magic. Eyes half-lidded and glowing yellow, Ket ‘saw’ a shadow lift away from Emil and beginning arrowing towards him. Before he could react, Orem shouted a word of power and the net of magic exploded out of Emil to encircle it. Barely in time, Ket broke his connection to the net with a flick of his wrists and leapt back, his part of the ritual complete. 

Orem took over, humming faintly and swaying as he traced elegantly fluid glyphs in the air above the open jar. The net of light collapsed in on itself, a dark stain beating fruitlessly against it as the magic flowed into the jar. Orem flowed down with it, plugging the opening of the jar deftly and sealing the contamination away. It was over. Orem sat back on his heels and watched as Ket scrambled toward his brother, concern and hope warring on his face. 

Ket hovered anxiously over his brother, unsure what to do. He was just grasping Emil’s shoulder to gently shake the boy when Emil’s eyelids fluttered, then opened. 

“K- Ket?” His voice was barely a whisper, and his eyes weren’t quite focusing, but it was the first time Emil had spoken in two weeks. 

“Hey, Emil. I’m right here. How are you feeling?” Ket replied with a steadiness he didn’t feel, expertly crushing his emotional turmoil deep, deep down. 

“Tired… … … hurts…” Emil whimpered, his throat raspy with disuse. Ket couldn’t make out most of what he said. 

“I know, I’m sorry. Do you think you can stay awake for a bit?” Ket picked up Emil as carefully as if he were made of cobwebs and made quickly for the nearby couch, where he could prop his brother up easily. Before he could even begin casting about for fluids, Orem was there by his side with a tall bottle in hand. 

It took no small amount of coaxing to get Emil to drink the thick, sweet substance, but Ket was fiercely happy to do it. Once the boy was settled and sleeping, a proper restful sleep this time, Ket turned to Orem with an expression of near disbelief. 

“It worked. We did it. _You_ did it.” Ket looked up at Orem seriously, from where he knelt by Emil’s side. 

Orem didn’t reply at first. He laid a gentle hand on Emil’s forehead, and finally allowed his serene expression to melt into a small wry smile as he drew away. “His fever broke. I hate to agree with you, but it seems we have indeed done it.” Orem took advantage of Ket’s kneeling to tilt his head back slightly and look down his nose at the half-elf mock-mockingly. 

He wasn’t sure how to handle what had been passing between the two of them. Surely it was just the stress and exhaustion that had made him act so… commonly, so unlike himself. So embarrassingly. But then Ket… Ket had taken his hand, hadn’t he? _It doesn’t matter. They’re going to leave, I’m sure, and everything will go back to normal_ , Orem thought. His smile grew brittle as the frost crept up out his heart once more, freezing out the tentative happiness that had begun to blossom there. Orem tried desperately to hold the expression still, to preserve his façade. After all, the two of them had earned this celebration, however brief. 

For a moment Ket was confident. There was Orem, acting like his old self, like nothing painful and unspoken had ever passed between the two of them. But as the silence between them stretched just slightly too long, his eyes became shadowed and that sarcastic little smirk twisted at the corners like a knife in an old wound left un-tended. Now that Ket was really looking, both Orem’s hurt and his subterfuge were clear as the twilit sky overhead. Perhaps that wound had been left for too long, but Ket supposed he wouldn’t know until he tried. 

Ket looked away, pretending to turn his focus away from Orem’s strained expression. “Emil was so little when our parents died, I don’t think he really remembers them.” Ket stroked the top of his brother’s head gently, just as he had the first time he’d held Emil as an infant, and so many times after that. “Luckily, our sister was there to look after him when I was disappeared to the Astral sea, but it was really hard on him, on both of them, when I just vanished without a trace.” 

He looked back up at Orem, gauging the eladrin’s expression. He was still guarded, but Ket could see he was surprised, and at least a little interested in hearing about Ket’s history for the first time. 

“I still have a lot to make up for. Being gone for years without any word or explanation, he thought I’d abandoned them. He started doubting whether or not I really cared about him at all.” Ket sighed and stood slowly, making a show of putting his hands on his knees to lever himself upright. Orem’s face was carefully blank again, but Ket could see shadows stirring in the depths of those bottomless blue eyes. He was sure he'd struck a chord. 

“Of course, I understand how he feels. The less you have to hold on to, the more it hurts to lose it, right?” Ket looked directly into Orem’s eyes, daring him not to answer. He poured all of his charisma into that one look, turning the charm all the way up. Orem was still entangled in his racing thoughts, so Ket did something he had never done before while meeting Orem’s gaze. He completely un-guarded his own expression, letting his face betray his own remorse for once. 

“I… Yes. That would be difficult, for a child.” Orem finally responded, although he looked away as he spoke. 

“Not for a child Orem, for anyone.” Ket stepped forward and gripped Orem’s narrow shoulder firmly in one hand, willing the eladrin to meet his gaze. He was a full arm’s length away, and standing stiff as a board. 

“I told your father that we were your family, and that you were coming with us. Back to the natural world, that is. He didn’t take it particularly well. He banished me. I’m not, not sure about the others.” Orem was looking at him again, his features twisted with uncertainty. 

“That sounds like my father… He never said. None of them did.” Orem was leaning slightly towards him now, and his resolve looked to be wavering. 

“If I had more time, if I’d thought it through, I would have known he wouldn’t let you leave a second time. I was thinking about my own problems, and there wasn’t time to find a perfect solution. I’m here now though, and I’m not going anywhere.” Ket applied just the slightest pressure on Orem’s shoulder, so little that he wouldn’t even notice the suggestion. It worked. Orem took one half step toward him, and then another. 

“What about Emil? And your sister?” Orem was hesitant, still untrusting. It didn’t matter. Ket was confident now that he would win him over, that he had perhaps already done so. 

“Charlotte knew this was going to be a one-way trip, and grandmother is there if she needs anything. She already swore she’d never forgive me for disappearing, anyhow. Charlotte will be fine. And Emil? You saved him. He’ll have another hero to look up to, and somewhere to belong.” Orem moved another fraction of a step closer, a larger one this time. 

“I just found the books, you’re the one who carried him all the way here, who, who… did you sell your soul to the devil to get here?” Orem blurted out. Was that honest concern? No, it couldn’t be. 

“Of course not. It was someone else’s soul.” Ket shot him a winning smile. “And not to the devil either, for that matter.” 

“That’s hardly reassuring, _Ket_ ” The eladrin snapped, warming to the comfortable, familiar cadence of the many argumentative conversations they’d had through the years. 

“It wasn’t meant to be, _Orem_ ” Ket replied, savoring the opportunity to refract Orem’s words and tone, to direct the conversation away from that comfortable old track. Where Orem was sharp, almost accusatory, Ket was gentle, still questioning, but in a very different light. He could see from Orem’s face that the eladrin was feeling in control of himself, no longer trapped in an inward swirl of painful thoughts. It was the moment to strike. 

Ket closed the distance between them confidently and embraced Orem firmly in a menacingly platonic hug. “Thank you, for bringing Emil back to me.” 

Orem tensed for a moment in Ket’s arms, unsure and somehow disappointed. When he’d caught a glimpse of where the conversation seemed to be heading, the bottom had dropped out of his stomach, and in that moment he hadn’t been able to stop himself from panicking. Orem was already inexpertly redirecting their course before the regret over doing so began to trickle through his mind. Now it seemed he’d gotten his way, but it was somehow unsatisfying. 

Surely this was fine though. Better than the alternative even, because it was completely safe. He relaxed into Ket’s chest just a little bit more than was perhaps entirely appropriate. “Of course,” Orem answered. The vibration of Ket’s voice against the side of Orem’s head sent a warm ripple shooting through his core and into his extremities. Thinking the better of snuggling into his friend’s embrace, Orem began reluctantly to pull away, tipping his head back slightly to look up at Ket. This was going to hurt if he didn’t stop it now. 

Ket was leaning down to meet Orem as the eladrin began pulling away, his goateed face surprisingly close. He pressed his lips tenderly against Orem’s forehead, lingering just long enough to make his true intentions clear before finally loosening his grip, allowing Orem to stumbling back. 

For his part, Orem’s mind ran truly blank for the first time in ages as he tried to find his response. He was entirely unprepared for the heat in Ket’s eyes, and for the intensity of his own response to it, like a pillar of fire consuming him from the inside. Ket’s arms were falling away from him in slow motion, his expression expectant but still patient. _Was it this way all along?_ He wondered, awestruck. _Were these feelings the thorns I’ve clung to all this time?_

Orem reached up with arms that hardly seemed to belong to him. He gripped Ket’s dark, smiling face between his hands and pulled him those few inches down to gaze into his eyes. He looked so smug, so sure of himself, and Orem hated it. He kissed Ket fiercely, twisting his fingers through the half-elf’s sleek hair. The whole world shifted around him as he moved lips and tongue in desperation. 

Ket met Orem’s sudden ferocity with gentle passion. It was probably too much and too fast, but the sudden release of the tension that had been building between them was irresistible. Ket wound one arm around Orem’s waist and placed his other hand at the nape of his neck, allowing himself to melt bonelessly against Orem as their lips moved together. 

And Orem did in fact taste sweet, distinctly floral like honey made from the hardy flowers that bloomed on the costal dunes by Coldport. He also tasted bitter, or maybe that was just the regret over time wasted and mistakes made. After a time the sweetness was cut with salt. Ket broke away then. Thin rivulets of tears were leaking from Orem’s eyes as he turned his face away, trying desperately to hide and finding nowhere to do so. Ket pulled Orem into his arms again and pressed their foreheads together. It was Orem’s turn to tremble in uncertainty before a terrifying precipice, but just like Ket earlier, he didn’t have to do it alone. 

*** 

Ket woke from a dream of mist and pumpkins that night and gazed blearily up at Orem, sitting against the headboard of the bed, even more ethereal under the faerie-lit canopy. “Remind me to show you what else beds are good for,” he murmured to Orem. Ket wriggled closer and lifted his head into Orem’s lap. 

“Don’t be lewd, your brother is not even ten feet away,” Orem replied with a sniff. 

“For now,” Ket replied lazily, as he began drifting back to sleep. 

“Hush. I’m meditating.” 

_“for now”_ Ket whispered. 

*** 

Three and a half years later, Orem and Ket bid farewell to Emil in the courtyard, with statues of Torq, Smith, and Althern looking on. Emil was eager to continue his apprenticeship in the library, and had little desire to return to the material plane. And so it was that Orem and Ket departed the Spring wood hand in hand, with Little Sparkle in tow. When the trio intercepted Randus en route to Coldport he was wise enough not to comment on their matching mythril rings, though they shared a soft look when he joked that they still bickered like an old married couple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thanks for reading and for your support! I turned in my dissertation two days ago, and now Apocatastasis is also done! I can hardly believe it. I'll write as ideas strike me, but also if any of you have prompts/ideas for things you would like to read, send them along and I'll take a whack at them.


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